Edward Kenway's Guide to Child Rearing
by Ika Inku
Summary: Children don't come with a manual, Edward Kenway wished they did as he struggles to navigate the uncharted waters of being a single father raising a child. With the aid of his ragtag group of friends with backgrounds of questionable legality, Edward is determine to bring Haytham up right, even if he has to stumble along the way to do so. [Hiatus]
1. Custody

**Assassin's Creed (c) Ubisoft**

 **Concept** **(c) Sannam**

* * *

Lucy Stillman didn't like having her time wasted. She was a woman that liked to stick to her schedule and if you were a timewaster, she'd drop you in a heartbeat. No, Lucy Stillman didn't like her time wasted, yet here she was, sitting at her desk waiting for her next client to show up. He was already fifteen minutes late. She tapped her pencil on her desk, checked her cellphone (only messages from her boss and boyfriend). "Where is he?" Lucy growled, as she ran a hand along her hair, all tight, neat and in place. She was about to call in her next client when the door creaked open.

In walked a man in his early thirties, blond hair cropped at the middle of his neck, a day old beard, scars on his cheek, eye and nose. He wore a Hooters T-shirt and jeans with various stains on them, and in his hands was a leather jacket with patches on them she only ever seen from the military. The only thing going for him was his startling blue-green eyes. "Uhm… are you Ms. Stillman?" he asked, sounding hesitantly nervous.

"It's _Miss_ Stillman," Lucy said tartly, "and you're late Mr. Kenway. Sit." She pointed to the chair across from her desk. The man sat, gawked about her office real quick before turning his attention back to her. Lucy pulled out his file and skimmed through it. She already read it but she wanted to make sure she got everything in order. "Your name is Edward James Kenway?" she glanced up at him with an arched brow.

"Yes. Yes it is," Edward replied, flashing her a smile. Lucy snorted.

"You joined the Navy when you were 18… got married to a Caroline Scott at nineteen," Lucy thumbed through the file. "You have a daughter."

"Yes, Jennifer, we call her Jenny. She lives with her mother in New York. We got a divorce when she was two. That was twelve years ago."

"I can read, Mr. Kenway," Lucy replied tightly. "You left the Navy at twenty-two… and then had a string of unfortunate run-ins with the law."

"I've cleaned up my act!" Edward protested. "I've only spent a few days in jail."

"Several stints of 'a few days' apparently. Most of this stuff is petty theft, nothing to land you in federal prison," Lucy mumbled. "You got married last year again."

"Aye. Tessa," Edward said wistfully, and Lucy watched as his face suddenly fell. "She's dead. Buried her last week."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Lucy glanced back down at the file. "You have another child, a son, Haytham."

"Oh yeah, he's going to be two years old this December. A handful, but he's a good boy and—"

"You still live at your current address?" Lucy asked.

"Yep."

"And you're currently unemployed?" Lucy asked. Edward sighed, running a hand through his hair, before meeting Lucy's gaze.

"Look, ma'am—"

" _Miss Stillman_ ," Lucy hissed.

"I've been going through some tough times. My wife just died, I have to take care of my son, I got fired three days ago, I'm looking for another job and… I'm doing the best I can."

"Where is your son now?" Lucy asked.

"At my place, where else would he be?"

"By himself?" Lucy asked, arching a brow. Edward laughed, slapping his knee.

"Good heavens, no! I got Blackie watching him."

"And who is this 'Blackie', your dog?"

Edward snickered at that. "Wait till I tell him you thought he's a dog. Nah, he's my old Navy buddy, Ed Thatch."

"I see." Lucy set the file on her desk and interlaced her fingers before leaning on her desk. "Let me cut to the chase Mr. Kenway, I work for social services, my job is to make sure children have good homes and are provided for by their parents. The reason you're here is because a concerned neighbour called informing me of your son's situation."

"What? Are you trying to take my kid away from me?" Edward asked, tightening his grip on his jacket. "You can't do that! He's my kid!"

"I can and I will—"

"You can't!" Edward stood up. "He's mine! My own flesh and blood! The last bit I have of my wife! I won't let you take him away from me!"

"Sit down Mr. Kenway," Lucy snapped. Edward frowned at her but sat back down in a huff. "I'm not going to take your son from you. I only will if I see no alternative. We like to keep the children with their biological parents as often as possible. So, I will give you a chance. Get a job, clean up your act, take care of your son and you will never hear from me again. Fail on any of these and I will take Haytham away and put him into foster care, do you understand?"

"Yes," Edward mumbled. "Is that all?"

"It is," Lucy said and handed Edward her business card, "If you ever feel the need to contact me."

"I don't think it'll come to that," Edward said, grabbing the business card as he stood. He shoved it into his back pocket. He didn't say anything as he walked out the door. Lucy Stillman sighed, rubbing her forehead and wondered if Edward Kenway would end up back in her office.

* * *

Edward breathed a sigh of relief when he pulled up into his driveway, he'd been praying for the last five miles or so that the beat-up old Honda Accord would make it. It did, thankfully, but gave a horrible crunching bang sound as he put it in park and turned off the engine. Edward scowled at the dashboard. Just another thing he didn't need on top of his already growing list of things he didn't need. Hopefully, he could fix it himself and wouldn't need to take it to a mechanic. Sighing, Edward got out of his car and headed to his house.

He entered, kicking off his shoes before heading to the living room. The TV was on, an empty glass on the coffee table, which was nothing more than a circular plane of glass glued to the top of an old sailing ship's helm. The infamous whale couch that he bought before meeting Tessa had one occupant. Well, two but Edward didn't count his infant son, who was snoozing on his friend's wide chest. Haytham had a tiny fist clutched around a lock of Thatch's thick black beard. "Your home," Thatch commented as Edward flopped down on the couch.

"She thought you were a dog." Edward rubbed his forehead. "And I think she hated me."

"Really?" Thatch raised an eyebrow. "What gave her the impression that I was a damn dog?"

"Haven't a clue," Edward stared at the ceiling. "I need a job."

"You aren't thinking about—"

"No, no," Edward sighed, "an honest job."

"Right, hmm… you're pretty good at mixin' drinks?" Thatch asked.

"Decent, I guess. Why?"

"I know a place where I can get you a bartending gig. Nothin' fancy, but it's good money and it'll pay the bills. Won't put this bugger through college, but it'll keep him fed." Thatch said, and rested a larger hand on Haytham's small back. "Nights okay?"

"Fine. I'll get someone to watch him, maybe Mary or Anne," Edward sighed. Thatch shifted, lifting Haytham up and setting the baby into Edward's lap. "I just… I feel so lost without her Blackie."

"I know, I know," Thatch said, patting Edward on the shoulder before standing up, "I'll give you a call about that bartending gig in the next day or two. In the meantime, keep your head down." He scooped up his car keys from the table.

"Thanks Blackie, I'll manage," Edward shouted. "Later!" he heard the door close. With a sigh, he looked down at his sleeping son and smoothed his dark brown hair. Haytham stirred, gave a soft coo, before snuggling against his father. "Well, Haytham," Edward said, "it looks like it'll just be you and me for the long haul now." Edward looked up at the TV and shook his head to get some of the hair out of his eyes. "Yep, just you and me," he smiled, "just remember you'll always be my little sea urchin and I whale always love you." He kissed his son's forehead.

* * *

 **And so it begins. The long and trying road of single parenthood. Is Edward up for the challenge or will he lose his mind? Stay tune to find out!**

 **Inspired and loosely based off of the lovely Edward is a single dad AU comics by sannam from Tumblr. Thank you for letting me run wild in the AU and for inspiring such a desire with your art! I hope you enjoy this.**

 **I plan to do most of these in chronological order of Haytham growing up.**

 **Save an author; leave a review!**

 **-Nemo**

 **PS: For Jackdaw readers, I've made progress on chapter five! It should be up sometime this week.**


	2. Diapers

**Assassin's Creed (c) Ubisoft**

 **Concept (c) sannam**

* * *

Edward grumbled as he tossed the bulky diaper bag into the back seat of his beat-up old car; Haytham squirmed in his arms, babbling nonsense, wanting to be let down. "Easy there, you little sea urchin," Edward mumbled as he ducked into the car. Haytham wriggled, attempting to get free from his father's grip. "No, no," Edward sighed, putting Haytham into his car seat, the boy made another break for it but Edward pushed him back, slipping his tiny arm through a strap, then the other before buckling him in.

Haytham blinked, squirmed and tried to pull the buckle out. His attempt was futile. He whimpered, wriggling and slowly began to protest, his scream increasing in volume with every breath he squeezed from his tiny lungs. "Knock that off, Haytham!" Edward said, but his son ignored him. "Jaysus." Edward rubbed his forehand before digging his car keys out of his pocket. He closed the door before getting into the driver's seat. Haytham was still screaming in protest in his car seat. "C'mon start," Edward pleaded, his son's shrill screams starting to fray a nerve, "start you bloody fucker!" The car rumbled into life, the radio turned on, some heavy metal song playing. Haytham continued to wail. Edward turned up the radio, hoping to drown out his son's cries.

Haytham reacted by screaming louder. "Keep ya cool Kenway, keep ya cool," Edward muttered as he resisted banging his head repeatedly against the steering wheel. He hoped the drive to Buy Smart would put his son to sleep.

* * *

Edward use to be a simple man with simple needs. He use to go grocery shopping every other week, ordering pizza and Chinese take-out most days of the week or living off of instant ramen the days he didn't. When he met Tessa, things didn't really change much, then they had Haytham and things changed dramatically. Now as a single father, Edward found the task of grocery shopping daunting.

Thus Edward James Kenway found himself staring at the diaper aisle, his mind quite literally blown, wondering just what type of diapers to buy while trying to remember what diapers Tessa use to get. There were Huggies, Pampers, and a few other brands that Edward didn't recognize. Deals of buy 2 get the 3 half-off or 2 for $5. Yes, Edward concluded that this was a task best tackled by two people or a woman. Definitely a woman.

Edward glanced at his son, who mindlessly chewed on a teething ring in contentment. "Well, at least one of us isn't internally freakin' out," Edward muttered and eased the cart further into the diaper aisle. Cautiously he went up to a shelf, one hand on the cart and stared at the smiling baby on the package. He squinted at the writing on the packaging. "Leak guard? What the hell is leak guard?" he muttered. "Free movement? Jaysus, what do these people think these kids will get into? A nuclear war?"

Edward rubbed his chin. He wanted diapers, plain simple diapers. He didn't need anything fancy, just cheap diapers. Edward looked around and spotted a young mother pushing her cart. She stopped behind him, and grabbed a pack of diapers. Edward chewed his lip, made the decision and hesitantly asked, "Uhm… what diapers are the best?"

The mother looked at him, smiling. "Awww, how sweet of you to buy diapers with your son," she said.

"Uh, thanks. Look, ma'am, I just want to know which—"

"He's a little cutie, how old is he?" she asked, cooing at Haytham. For his credit, Haytham was more interested in his teething ring than the strange woman ogling him.

"A year, almost two," Edward said, "look lady all I need is—"

"Bye," she said upon seeing a man walk towards her. Edward huffed, watching the woman greet her man. Edward looked away, feeling a sharp pang of loss. He put his hand on Haytham's small head. The boy looked up at him, gnawing happily on his teething ring. Edward smiled.

"It'll be alright, sea urchin, I'll take good care of ya," Edward whispered, before digging out his phone. He scrolled through his contacts until he found the name he was looking for; he tapped it and pressed the phone to his ear.

"Who's this?" came the familiar voice of his best friend.

"Blackie, thank goodness! I need your help."

"With what?" Thatched asked, sounding tired.

"Diapers. I need diapers."

"Go buy some then. I'm not the damn diaper fairy."

"I'm at the store. I don't know which ones to get!"

"Get the ones Tessa got."

"I don't know which ones she got!"

"What do you want me to do about it?"

"Look, Blackie, there are literally fucking thousands of them! You gotta help me out!" Edward pleaded. He glanced up into the large fluorescent lights, listening to the alternative rock song that was playing on the radio that the store broadcasted. Edward snarled at some of the more prudish mothers that shot him scowls, not approving of his casual usage of vulgarity. "Please?"

"Christ, Kenway! Do it your fucking self, I'm not your goddamn boyfriend!" Thatch sighed into the phone.

"Blackie!"

"No. I'll be by your place at six so you can get to work. You are on your own with this diaper thing. Bye." There was a click and Edward sighed in frustration. He scrolled through his contacts and tapped another number.

"C'mon, c'mon, pick up!" Edward muttered, tapping his foot as he waited.

"'Ello?" came a voice on the other end.

"Mary! Thank goodness. Look, I'm in the diaper aisle at Buy Smart, I need your help in finding diapers," Edward said. He heard Mary groan into the receiver and mutter something in Spanish.

"Anne just left for Buy Smart. I'll give her a buzz and tell her to swing buy, so sit tight. And why are you even calling me? Why didn't you call Caroline?"

"I'm not fucking calling Caroline! She'll squeeze me for child support after she cusses me out for being a worthless piece of shit!" Edward hissed into the phone. "Just… never mind."

"Well Anne should help," Mary replied evenly.

"Thanks."

"Is Haytham with you?"

"Yeah, why wouldn't he be? I'm not that irresponsible that I'd leave my own kid at—"

" _Don't swear in front of him you fucking jackass!_ " Mary shouted loud enough that Edward had to hold the phone away from his ear. She hung up after that and Edward scowled at his phone before shoving it into his pocket.

Edward waited for Anne to show up, which took about fifteen minutes but felt like an hour. "Boy am I glad to see you," he said, flashing her a grin when she finally showed up.

"Hello Haytham!" Anne cooed, ignoring Edward. Haytham giggled, babbling at her cutely.

"Oh sure, greet my kid, not me will ya," Edward growled. Anne snorted, before pulling to packs of Huggies diapers off the shelf and dropping them into Edward's cart.

"There. Buy these. They are for 1-3 years of age. They are a good price and quality," Anne said.

"Why are you so hostile to me, Anne?" Edward sighed.

"Mary told me you called her and so did Blackie," Anne said.

"So?"

"So, if you want to keep your kid," Anne said, grabbing another pack of diapers, "woman up!" she shoved the diapers into Edward's arms. She tucked some hair behind her ear before smiling at Haytham. "Bye Haytham, before good for your daddy!" Anne said and walked off. Edward huffed, running his hand through his hair.

* * *

Thatch didn't know what to make of the reading material on Edward's whale couch. "What?" Edward asked, looking up. "Anne said to 'woman up' so I swung by the bookstore and bought a couple of parenting books."

"Good grief Kenway," Thatch muttered, "you're so hopeless. You won't last a week."

"Shut up Mr. Eight Divorces," Edward growled, shifting Haytham to the side of the couch. The sleeping boy stirred but nothing more. "Are you sure you can do this?"

"Its fine, go. You'll be late," Thatch said, sitting down next to Haytham.

"Thanks, I'll pay you back," Edward stammered.

"You can pay me back by making it to the job I got you and giving me a beer the next time I'm over."

"Deal," Edward agreed before bending down and kissing his son's forehead, "see ya," he muttered to Thatch before leaving.

* * *

Edward got home around three in the morning, and slowly made his way to the living room. Thatch was watching reruns of _Cheers_ , Haytham asleep on his chest. "How was work?" his friend asked.

"Fine, I guess," Edward whispered, plopping down on the couch. He pulled his jacket off, then his button down shirt. He looked at the stained T-shirt that contrasted with his black slacks. He made a face, then scooped his son from Thatch's set and cuddled the little boy. " _Cheers_ , really?" Edward whispered, resting a hand on Haytham's back, feeling his fragile ribs rise and fall steadily.

"Eh, it was on," Thatch shrugged. Edward nodded, resting his head against the back of the couch. He closed his eyes, letting the drone of the TV lull him to sleep.

* * *

 **It's really hard writing this with my cat sleeping on me, using my left arm as a pillow. He's a cute bugger, but damn. Sometimes I wish he didn't insist on sleeping on my lap when I'm on my laptop.**

 **And Edward continues to fumble through parenting. Next one should have Haytham a bit older so he can be more interactive. Also, the Assassin parents will make cameos later. They aren't really friends of Haytham, but he knows them and gets along with them for the most part. I'm thinking there will be a sleep over-birthday party chapter, which explains why Haytham doesn't let his friends spend the night (or the afternoon) at his house anymore. Hahah.**

 **Save an author; leave a review!**

 **-Nemo**


	3. Toilet Trials

**Assassin's Creed (c) Ubisoft**

 **Concept (c) sannam**

* * *

It was a battle of the wills, a three year old versus a thirty-something year old. Edward stared down at his naked son. He held a pair of training pull-ups that Haytham had refused to put on, while trying to ignore the brown stains on the wall behind him. The image was easier to forget than the smell. "C'mon Haytham, time to put your big boy pants on," Edward said, holding up the pull-ups.

"No!" Haytham shouted. It was his favorite word today. No meant everything from actual _no_ to _yes I love it!_ and everything in between. Edward sighed, glancing at his watch. At the rate things were going he'd be late for the job interview. He needed this second job.

"Haytham, Daddy isn't in the mood for your games, now c'mere and let's get your pants on," Edward growled and took a step towards his son.

"No!" the toddler shouted, before letting loose a giggling scream, bolting away from Edward. Edward swore and took off after Haytham. The boy didn't get far, before Edward managed to scoop him up after a few feet. "No! No! No! No! No!" Haytham screamed, kicking his little legs.

"Haytham… you're gonna," Edward growled, wrestling with his wriggling child, "get dressed, properly!"

"No!" Haytham screamed as Edward forced him into his training pants. Big fat tears rolled down Haytham's chubby cheeks. "No!" Haytham muttered, tugging at the trainers. Edward smacked his son's hand.

"You leave those on," Edward said, before glancing around until he found a tiny T-shirt. "Arms up, time for your shirt," he said. Haytham pouted but held his arms up and Edward pulled the shirt over the boy's head. "Where's Haytham? Where is he?" Edward asked, playfully before tugging the shirt down, revealing Haytham's head. "There he is! There's my precious little sea urchin!" Edward cheered, tickling his son beneath his chin. Haytham squirmed, giggling.

"C'mon, sit in Daddy's lap so we can get your pants on," Edward said. Haytham smiled before sitting in Edward's lap. His father grabbed a pair of shorts and wriggled them onto Haytham. "Now, if ya have to go potty come and get me or someone and what do you tell them?"

"Poddy!" Haytham shouted, twisting around to look at his father with a grin. "I haffa poddy!"

"Good boy!" Edward cheered, kissing his son's cheek. "You say that when you need to go. Now, Daddy has to clean the wall before Uncle Ben comes over."

"Why?" Haytham asked, as Edward set him on the floor. Edward frowned, unsure if Haytham meant why he had to clean or why Ben was coming over. "Why?" Haytham asked again.

"Because ya made a mess of the wall, sea urchin," Edward said, getting up to fetch a bucket of water, rag and soap.

"Why?" Haytham followed Edward, little hands clasped behind his back.

"Daddy has to go talk to Uncle Áddie," Edward said, kneeling before the offending brown smear with his bucket of soapy water. He was secretly glad Haytham was unsuccessful in using the rest of the walls as a canvas for his fecal art. Grumbling he began to clean.

* * *

He finished just as the doorbell rang. Haytham began to bark like a dog, giggling in between each woof. Edward dumped the brown water down the sink, washed his hands before heading to the door and opening it. "Ben!" Edward greeted cheerily. Ben Hornigold did not look very pleased to be at Edward's house.

"Edward." Ben forced a smile.

"Thanks for coming, I would've gotten—"

"It's fine," Ben said, patting on the shoulder as he entered the house. "I can watch him for a few hours."

"I really appreciate it, I'll pay ya."

"I want a steak next time I visit then," Ben said, staring at Edward. "You make a good steak."

"Deal. Anyway," Edward said, "Haytham!"

Haytham peeked around the corner, a plastic bucket on his head and a squirt gun in his hand. A devilish glint gleamed in his eyes as he grinned up at the two adults. "Pew! Pew!" he cried, shooting the squirt gun at Ben. Much to everyone's shock, the squirt gun had water in it. Ben frowned, glowering at Edward.

"Make it two steaks," he said, as Edward snickered.

"Alright," Edward agreed, before slipping into his room and changing into a clean polo shirt and slacks. Haytham peered up at him as Edward came out looking almost like a different person. "Haytham, c'mere and give Daddy a kiss," Edward said. Haytham grinned and bolted into Edward's arms. Edward hugged his son tightly, kissing his cheek. "Be good while Daddy is gone, okay? Mind Uncle Ben and tell him when you have to go potty."

"No," Haytham said, smiling. Ben arched a brow.

"His favorite word today is no. You'll have to use a bit of detective work with it to see what he means. He should tell you when he needs to use the bathroom, but if he doesn't ask him and keep asking him until he tells you," Edward said, letting Haytham go.

"Why didn't you get Thatch to watch him? The man's good with kids."

"Thatch is busy, now I really need to go," Edward said. "My number is on the fridge, if you need to get a hold of me, food is in the fridge and… yeah, think that's it," Edward said, kissing his son's cheek quickly. "Bye sea urchin, I whale always love you!"

"Bye-bye," Haytham chirped, waving as his father left. When the door closed, Haytham looked up at Ben with a grin, before firing his squirt gun into his babysitter's face.

* * *

Ben cut up the carrot sticks and dinosaur shaped chicken nuggets. He set them on a plate, which he placed on the table. "Alright Haytham, lunchtime," Ben called. There was no answer. "Haytham?" Ben called, trying to crush the panic that wanted to bubble up as he headed towards the living room. He felt relief wash over him when he saw the toddler standing there, blankly staring at the wall. "Haytham, what's the matter?"

Haytham looked up at Ben and smiled mischievously. "Tee-Tee!" he squealed, reaching for Ben's face with grabbing little fingers. The man placed his hands on the boy's small shoulders to prevent those grabbing little hands from reaching his face.

"Do you have to go potty?" Ben asked. Haytham stopped trying to grab Ben's facial hair. The little boy stared at his babysitter, eyes growing wide.

"No," he said, though it was hesitant.

"Haytham, do you have to go potty?" Ben asked again. Haytham looked away.

"No," he repeated. Ben pulled Haytham close and peeked down his pants. No poop or pee, so maybe Haytham didn't have to go. Ben frowned, not liking Haytham's attitude.

"C'mon, we're going to use the bathroom," Ben said, scooping up Haytham.

"No! No! No!" Haytham screamed, wriggling frantically in an attempt to get free. Ben held him firmly as he went into the bathroom. He lifted the lid to the toilet and yanked Haytham's pants down before sitting the boy on the toilet, gripping him beneath the arms. Haytham whimpered, but Ben was rewarded with a tinkling sound and then three small splashes. He peeked into the toilet, nodded upon seeing the waste.

"Good boy," he told Haytham, who looked at him as if Ben was the most wretched horrid creature known to man. Ben cleaned Haytham up before tugging the boy's pants back up to his waist. He flushed the toilet and Haytham squirmed free, making a break for the door. "Hey, wash your hands first!" Ben said, grabbing Haytham around his middle.

"No, no, no!" Haytham squealed in protest as Ben forced him to wash his hands. The little boy gave him another withering scowl, but it only made Ben smile.

"Now, let's eat."

* * *

Edward came home that evening, a brown paper bag in his hands. "About fucking time, Kenway!" Ben roared.

"Daddy!" Haytham squealed in delight, rushing towards Edward.

"Did something happen?" Edward asked, worriedly, as he maneuvered his way to the table and set the groceries down. He then bent and scooped up Haytham.

"That kid of yours is a terror," Ben said, jabbing his finger at Haytham. "I refuse to watch him until he can speak properly and wipe his own—"

"Fuck!" Haytham shouted, a big grin on his face. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!" he said in a singsong voice. Edward blinked, staring at his son, before scowling at Ben.

"Butt…" Ben finished lamely, looking away. "So… you off Friday?"

"In the evening yeah, but I work now from eight to three at the mechanic shop Áddie runs," Edward said.

"Was there any doubt Ádewalé wouldn't give you the job?" Ben asked. Edward shrugged.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck," Haytham sang.

"Don't say that word," Edward said, bouncing the boy a little bit, "it's a daddy word." Haytham ignored him and continued to sing his song consisting entirely of the word _fuck_. Edward frowned. "Haytham Kenway!" Edward thundered, shocking his son out of his own little world. "Don't say that. It's a daddy word. Do you want a spanking?"

Haytham looked up at his father, then hung his head. "No," Haytham mumbled, resting his head against Edward's shoulder. He grabbed a fistful of Edward's shirt. Edward smiled, patting his son on the back.

"I need to go," Ben said, feeling awkward.

"Steaks go on the grill at four," Edward said.

"All right, I'll be there," Ben said, before leaving the house. Edward sighed, pulling out the mail from the bag of groceries. He sat down, settled Haytham in his lap and flipped through the mail. Bills mostly, which made Edward groan and rub his forehead.

"Dada?" Haytham asked. Edward glanced at his son, and smiled.

"Hey, sea urchin," Edward whispered, ruffling his son's dark hair. "You were good for Uncle Ben?"

"Yeah."

"Good." Edward looked at the bills in his hand. "Don't worry sea urchin, we'll pull through. Daddy always pulls through," Edward sighed, "somehow."

Haytham looked up at Edward, an innocent look in his eyes. Edward chuckled and gave his boy a one armed hugged, resting his cheek on Haytham's little head. "I love ya, Haytham, love ya so much. We'll be alright, I promise. Daddy won't let anything bad happen to ya." Edward whispered before pressing a kiss against Haytham's temple. "I promise."

The boy giggled and looked up at Edward. "Wuv you Dada," Haytham said. Edward smiled and held his son tightly.

* * *

" **You were good for Uncle Ben?"**

" **Yeah."**

 **This is part is where I hear Ben going "Lies, Edward! All lies!" Hahaha. So, this chapter is a tad bit sad at the end. Edward is a single parent working two jobs with a small child to take care of. It's tough and stressful, but this story is ultimately happy, so while there are some sad moments, I always aim for a happy-ish ending for each chapter.**

 **Tomorrow Haytham begins kindergarten! Yay! And yes, Edward works as a mechanic for** **Á** **dewal** **é.**

 **I'm glad you people are enjoying this.**

 **Tee-tee is what my nephew calls cats. My cat is named "TC" so, last year when my sister and her family was living with us, he kept hearing "TC" for all the cats, so now he calls cats "Tee-tee". Ben being mistaken for a cat by Haytham comes from another comic from DA, where Edward gets drunk and mistake Ben for a cat (it's the mutton chops, they look like cat whiskers. Haha!)  
My nephew always does the pew-pew thing. It's really cute because he cups his fist with one hand points both index fingers at you and goes "pew-pew" with this infectious little grin on his face. The bucket on Haytham heads in an idea MohawkWoman tossed to me last night. See! I was able to work the bucket in! **

**A "daddy word" is what we called swear words when I was a kid, since my dad was only ever allowed to say them. This they became "daddy words". I remember getting upset with my sister when she said those words when we got older and scold her for saying a** _ **daddy word**_ **.**

 **Save an author; leave an** _ **honest**_ **review!**

 **-Nemo**

 **PS: FOLLOWERS! PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF THE JACKDAW, REVIEW!**


	4. First Day of School

**Assassin's Creed (c) Ubisoft**

 **Concept (s) Sannam**

* * *

Haytham stared at his breakfast: blueberry pancakes, a glass of milk, buttery toast and a small bowl of honeydew melon. "Do I have to eat all of this?" he asked. "Where's the syrup?"

Edward set the jar of syrup next to Haytham's plate. "Yes, it's your first day of school."

"I don't like toast," Haytham muttered as he poured syrup over his pancakes.

"Since when?" Edward asked, sitting down. He pulled the plate of toast towards him and poured some of Haytham's milk into his coffee.

"I never liked toast." Haytham pouted, stabbing his pancake. "You know that." The five-year-old attempted to bite the pancake.

"Haytham, smaller bites lad," Edward said, "Jaysus, do ya wanna choke?" Edward took a butter knife and pulled his son's plate towards him. He cut the pancakes into manageable sizes. "You need to learn to do this on your own."

"You won't show me," Haytham protested as he speared a pancake square. "Are you picking me up from school?"

"Should be, Áddie knows it's your first day so he said he'll cut me early. If not Uncle Thatch will or Aunt Mary," Edward said. "Your phone's charged?"

"Yep!" Haytham smiled. "Everyone's number is in it too."

"Good lad." Edward smiled, sipping his coffee. "You'll do great Haytham. Play nice with the other kids, especially the girls. Never hit a girl, even if they hit you first. So let the girls put glue in your hair."

"Why?" Haytham asked, sipping his milk. "I think the milk is going bad."

"Aw, fuck," Edward muttered, rubbing his palm against his eye. "Don't say that, okay?"

"I won't," Haytham assured his father, "cause if I do, Aunt Mary'll tan your hide."

Edward smiled and ruffled Haytham's hair. "That's my sea urchin."

"Do you hafta call me that?"

"Haytham," Edward said, "you whale always be my little sea urchin, and I whale always love you."

"Don't say that when you drop me off, please! Bad enough I have to have a _Pirate of the Caribbean_ lunchbox and backpack."

"What's wrong with Captain Jack Sparrow?" Edward asked. Haytham gave his father a deadpan look.

"I _wanted_ G.I. Joe."

"G.I. Joe is for prissy rich brats. You aren't one of them; you're a pirate," Edward said defensively, "Besides, your backpack has Will Turner on it."

"Father…" Haytham sighed, and went back to eating his breakfast in silence. Edward frowned, wondering if he said something wrong.

* * *

The car stopped in front of the school, clunking and banging before hissing a weary sigh as Edward put it into park. "Are you sure it's not going to break?" Haytham asked, eyeing the dashboard suspiciously.

"I'll tell Áddie to look at it," Edward muttered, patting the dashboard. There came the sound of something metallic falling from beneath the hood. Haytham glanced at his father, who merely shrugged. Haytham rolled his eyes and tugged at his tiny ponytail at the back of his head. He eyed the other children in the brightly colored new clothes from expensive department stores and then glanced at his Goodwill T-shirt, jacket, jeans and shoes. He suddenly felt utterly shabby compared to the other children.

"Father?" Haytham asked, hand on the door handle.

"Hm?"

"Can we go to Buy Smart after school and buy some new clothes for me?"

"What's wrong with the ones you have?" Edward asked. "They're clean. They don't have holes and they fit. Why do you need new clothes?"

"Father," Haytham sighed, "these are Goodwill clothes! Other people's throw-outs."

"So?"

"I look…" Haytham sighed, "stupid."

"No you don't," Edward said, "you look like my son, ready for his first day of school, about to fill his head with all that book smarts and make a bunch of friends." Edward put his hand on Haytham's head. "You don't need fancy clothes to be great, lad."

"Please can we go?" Haytham begged.

"Maybe, see how much spending money we have," Edward said.

"Alright," Haytham muttered, disappointed.

"Don't worry sea urchin, I'm gonna win the lottery this week, then I can buy you an entire closet of fancy clothes," Edward said, smiling. Haytham stared, before chuckling and shook his head.

"Bye, Father," Haytham said and opened the car door as he unbuckled himself from the seat.

"Do you want me to walk ya to the classroom?"

Haytham froze and took in his father's appearance: unkempt blond hair hastily pulled back into a tail, two days' worth of stubble on his face, coffee stains on the white T-shirt he wore (it had a the logo of some strip club on it), jeans stained and holed, with old sneakers. If his father's clothing didn't scare people, the scars on his face and the tattoos on his arms would. Haytham slipped off the seat. "No," he said, turning to face his father. "I'm fine."

"You sure, cause I don't—"

"Father, I can manage!" Haytham hissed, he could feel some of the other children and their parents staring at him. "I'll see you after school."

"Alright, alright," Edward huffed. "Have fun at school sea urchin, I whale always love you." Edward said loudly. Haytham heard some snickering behind him and his cheeks turned a bright pink.

"I love you too," he mumbled and closed the door before turning and heading towards the crowd, trying to keep his head down. Haytham followed the other kids into the building. Once inside, the new kindergarten students were herded off into their own section of the building, where the three teachers called out the names of students. Haytham didn't really pat attention to the names, only perking up when the teachers started calling names with H. "Haytham Kenway?" a woman called.

"Here!" Haytham called, shoving his way through the crowd of students. His teacher smiled and pointed to her classroom. Haytham went in and sat down at a desk.

"Hello," a boy said. Haytham stared at the other kid with wide eyes. He wore a red shirt and jeans but had a blanket over one shoulder and knotted at the opposite hit.

"Why are you wearing a blanket?" Haytham asked, then flushed. "I-I'm sorry, that was rude. Hi, I'm Haytham."

The boy chuckled. "It's okay. I'm William. My dad's an anto-pologist. He studies how the Native Americans lived before the English settlers. I like helping him and this is how they use to dress."

"Oh," Haytham said.

"I wouldn't be friends with him," a black boy said. Haytham wrinkled his nose in confusing. "I'm Achilles, and William is a jerkface."

"Am not!" William protested. Haytham looked between the two of them. "Haytham, don't listen to Achilles. He's just a sore loser."

"I'm not a sore loser! Shay cheated! He was on our team but decided to play for you guys half way through the game!"

"He didn't cheat! He was the 'rogue'! He followed the rules!" William protested.

"We never agreed to no such rules!" Achilles protested, and then focused his attention on Haytham. "William and his friends are lying cheaters. Don't play with them."

"Listen," Haytham began diplomatically, "I get that you don't like William, but I can make my own friends."

"Fine," Achilles spat, "play with William and his jerkface friends."

Haytham frowned, confused as to why Achilles was so mad at him. "Don't worry Haytham, we have a clubhouse."

"A clubhouse?" Haytham arched a brow.

"Yep! It's in a big old oak tree near my house! It's really cool. You should come and see it!"

"Maybe," Haytham muttered.

"I'll introduce you to my best friend Thomas! Thomas can be... odd but Ben and John don't mind him too much. See we are all friends, but Thomas and I are _best_ friends, same with John and Ben," William rambled.

"Erm… maybe," Haytham muttered, "I'll have to ask my father, though."

"Sometimes Shay plays with us too. Though Shay plays with Liam and Hope mostly, the three of them sometimes play with Achilles. At recess I'll introduce you to my friends, sound cool?"

"Yeah, I guess," Haytham muttered. He chewed his lip, unsure how to deal with William. He never went through day care or pre-school and he didn't exactly play much outside with the other kids in the neighbourhood. This was all frighteningly new for Haytham, though he liked William. Their teacher calling the class into session spared Haytham from William's further inquiry.

* * *

Edward parked the car in front of Ádewalé's shop. The vehicle moaned in relief and Edward patted the dashboard, muttering encouragement to the beat-up old car. He was about to exit when he noticed Haytham's lunchbox sitting in the passenger seat. "Shit," Edward muttered, and opened the door. "Áddie! Áddie! I have to go!"

"Wha' da fuck, mon! Ya jus' got here!" Ádewalé shouted as he rolled out from beneath a car he was working on. "Why?"

"I know, but Haytham forgot his lunchbox! It's his first day at school."

"Alright," Ádewalé sighed, "be quick. An' ya owe me, got it!"

"Aye, whatever you want," Edward said, starting the car up. The car whirred, protesting. "C'mon, c'mon, you fucking stupid piece of junk! Start!" Edward snarled and slapped the dashboard. The car hummed into life after that. "Jaysus." He stuck his head out the window. "I'll be back in about twenty minutes!"

"Jus' go, mon!" Ádewalé shouted. Edward grumbled before speeding off back towards the school.

He got to the school fifteen minutes later, parked the car (which groaned and sighed in relief as the engine was shut off. He really needed to get Ádewalé to look at it) and ran into the building, Jack Sparrow lunchbox in hand. He slammed his palms against the counter of the office. A grouchy lady looked up at him. "Hi, I'm looking for my son."

"Aren't we all," she drawled.

"No, listen, I need to get him his lunchbox!" Edward said, holding up the aforementioned lunchbox. "His name is Haytham Kenway, he's in kindergarten, just started today. What's his classroom?"

"Fill this out and have a seat," the secretary sighed, handing Edward a clipboard with a piece of paper on it.

"No, lady, just tell me what classroom Haytham Kenway is in? I'm his father, Edward."

"Fill out the paperwork and have a seat."

"Jaysus fucking Christ! I'm not here to pick him up; I'm just here to drop off his lunchbox!"

"Language Mr. Kenway," she said, not even looking at him. Edward growled and marched down the hall. "Sir! Sir! Sir!" she called, but Edward flipped her off. She frowned and thought about calling security but got distracted by a ping from her phone.

Edward peeked into every window he came across until he found Haytham's classroom. He barged in without preamble. "Morning ma'am!" he greeted Haytham's teacher who squeaked in surprised, and drawing the attention of the students. All but Haytham, who was feverishly praying that the ground would open up and swallow him, Edward trotted up to his son and put the lunchbox on his desk. "You forgot this in the car," Edward whispered.

"Father!" Haytham hissed.

"Love ya, sea urchin!" Edward said and pressed a kiss to Haytham's cheek before exiting the classroom, cheerily greeting the tired security guard that waiting outside the door.

"Who was that?" William asked, peeking at Haytham, whose face was a bright cherry red.

"My father," Haytham muttered and shoved his lunch box beneath his desk.

* * *

 **:3**

 **Poor Haytham, getting embarrassed like that by his father.**

 **So the groups of friends are Haytham and the Templar Boy Band, Achilles and Assassin Dads. Shay, Gist, Liam, Hope and Monro are the rogue kids that sometimes play with Achilles and Assassin Dads and sometimes play with Haytham and the Templar Boy Band. Shay will eventually hang out more with the Templar Boy Band.**

 **Haytham and Achilles don't like each other. And William's dad is an anthropologist. I had to explain his outfit somehow.**

 **Rodrigo Borgia and Mario Auditore are both in first grade. They'll appear later.**

 **I feel sorry for Edward's car.**

 **This is why Haytham doesn't have any friends.**

 **I'm just going to assume that everyone that doesn't review** _ **hates**_ **this story.**

 **Save an author; leave a honest review!**

 **-Nemo**


	5. Nervous Little Dogs and Amber Eyes

**Assassin's Creed (c) Ubisoft**

 **Concept (c) Sannam**

 **Note: Sorry about the mistakes, I have to get this up quickly so I can do my logic homework. College is a bitch.**

* * *

Haytham liked school. He liked his friends, he liked his teacher, he liked learning, and the best part about going to school was that he didn't have to deal with his father's quirks. Not that he hated his father or anything; it's just that his quirks got… tiring after a while. Before he knew it, he was in the first grade and top of his class.

It was a sunny day in September, Haytham was leading his group of friends in a game beneath the shade of a huge oak tree. He had brought his bucket of toy soldiers to school that day and they had each divided into six groups, since Shay had decided to play with them today (he didn't want to play house with Hope).

"You can't do that Shay," William whined, pointing to the soldier Shay had moved. "That's against the rules."

"Says who?" Shay asked, frowning. "I wanna move my soldier here, so I am!"

"William's right, Shay," Haytham said. "You can't do that. It's not your turn."

"But I always play the rogue!"

"Not in this game," Haytham hissed, eyes narrowing. "We all agreed by the rules and there was no rule for rogues!"

"You're so bossy, Haytham," Shay muttered, he glared at the other four boys and wondered why they didn't rebel against Haytham.

"Am not," Haytham protested. He didn't think he was bossy. Hope Jensen was bossy, Maria was bossy, even that new girl in their class with the funny name that the teacher couldn't even say was bossy. He wasn't bossy. "Rules are there for a reason, they are meant to be followed," Haytham said.

"Rules can be bent," Shay protested.

"No they can't!" Haytham insisted. "You can't go when there is a red light only when there is a green light."

"What about a yellow light, Haytham? What do you do then?" Shay countered. Haytham frowned, not liking this line of questioning. The yellow light has always confused him. Sometimes his father stopped for it other times he would shout: "hold onta yar seat Haytham! I'm gunnin' it!" and slam his foot on the gas pedal and speed through the yellow light before it turned red, then he'd turn around and tell Haytham not to do that when he started to drive.

"I'm sure yellow lights are important," Haytham muttered.

"See! Rules can be bent!" Shay smirked, triumphant. Haytham realized he lost this round and allowed Shay to play the rogue for their game. That was how far they got, for in the next moment they heard a shout.

"What the freak did you call me?" a shrill girl's voice shouted from the other side of the tree Haytham and his friends were playing under. All six boys turned to stare at the tree, wondering what was on the other side. "I'll teach you the meaning of _mucky_ _savage_ ya jerk!" the girl shouted followed by a clearly boyish yelp as she began to beat him. Haytham and his friends stared at each other. They were in the far end of the playground and none of the yard-aides ever came over here. Haytham knew a lot of bullying went on here because of the secluded nature of the spot, sometimes the big scary second grader Rodrigo Borgia would come here and bully Giovanni Auditore. Haytham had been lucky enough to not cross Rodrigo's path… yet.

"What should we do?" William asked.

"Ignore it," Haytham said.

"Betcha it's that wimpy kid Charlie Lee," Thomas said, with a stupid grin on his face, he took a sip of root beer. "Shay, wanna see me burp the alphabet?" he didn't even wait for Shay to answer before starting.

"We should at least see if we can help," William mumbled.

"I stand by what I said before, we ignore it," Haytham growled and went back to positioning his soldiers. The other boys shrugged, deferring to Haytham's leadership. It still baffled Haytham that he was silently appointed the leader of their little band. They took to calling themselves the Knights Templar, after William had found the name in a history book his father had. It had seemed like a good name at the time, and they all swore to be friends for life and help each other regardless and conquer the world together in their little tree house.

"Help! Help! Someone help me!" came the pathetic shout.

"Someone _ought_ to help," William said and then added in a hush voice, "it could draw a yard-aide."

Haytham and his friends sucked in a breath. A yard-aide was the last thing they wanted over here, because if the yard-aides became aware of this spot, it would forever be ruined. Nobody moved, everyone looked to Haytham instead. He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Fine, fine!" he snapped, standing up and heading to the other side of the tree though he heard his friends shuffle to see around the tree yet not leave Haytham's toy soldiers unattended.

Sure enough, the girl with the strange name was beating the crap out of the wimpy boy, Charles Lee. She had her feet planted on either side of him, holding a fistful of his shirt while she slugged him repeatedly in his stomach and his face whenever he yelped. Haytham swallowed, clearing his throat. "Excuse me," Haytham said, but she didn't hear him. "Excuse me!" Haytham repeated and put his hand on her shoulder.

The girl jerked up, twin black braids whipping around her face. She glowered at him with amber eyes and a fierce snarl on her lips. Haytham swallowed. He never been this close to a girl before and there was something intriguing about her, her ferocity drawing him like a moth to a flame. "What do you want?" she snapped, Charles Lee tried to make an escape. "Hey! Where do you think you're going, squirmy wormy?" she pulled Charles back into prime punching range.

"Can you not beat him up, here? We're trying to play a serious game," Haytham huffed. The girl looked passed Haytham and spied his toy soldiers.

"Yeah, looks to be real serious," she replied cheekily. Haytham flushed.

"Look," he paused, realizing he didn't even no her name.

"Kaneihtí:io," she said and shook Charles, who whimpered.

"Look Kana-gaga-diio—"

"Hahaha, didja hear that Willie? Her name is Gaga!" Thomas snickered, elbowing William in the ribs.

" _Kaneihtí:io_!" she snapped.

"Kana-gaga—"

"Just call me, Ziio."

"Diio."

" _Ziio!_ Jeez are you deaf as well as dumb?" she growled.

"Look, I don't want to get a yard-aide but if you—" Ziio pulled back her fist aiming right for Charles' nose. She swung, but Haytham grabbed her wrist, "don't stop beating up my friend, I will!"

"Oh," Ziio let go of Charles Lee. "So, he's your friend." Haytham swallowed and glanced at the cowering six-year-old then back at the cute tomboyish girl. He glanced at his feet and mumbled something. "Speak up, I can't hear ya!"

"Y-Yes!" Haytham said, staring into her amber eyes. "Yes, he is my friend, right Charles?" Haytham looked at the boy. Charles blinked rapidly, then looked between Ziio and Haytham.

"That's right, only reason I wasn't hear earlier Haytham was because Thomas told me we were meeting at the jungle gym!" Charles said.

"What? I said no su—OW! Willie, whatcha step on m'foot for?" Thomas said.

"See, now. We're sorry for—"

"Oh? Sorry is it?" Ziio said, getting right up into Haytham's face, forcing him to lean back a bit. "He called me a mucky savage!"

"Charles, apologize to her," Haytham hissed. Charles began to protest, but Haytham shouted, "Now Charles!"

Ziio grudgingly accepted the apology before staring at Haytham. "If he ever calls me a mucky savage again, I'll beat him proper, and then I'll sock ya in the jaw for being friends with a jerk face like him," she hissed, poking him in the chest with each word she spoke. She walked off.

"Hey, wait—" Haytham called, Ziio turned around and showed him only the middle finger of one hand. Haytham frowned, not really sure, what that meant and only ever seeing his father use it when he's really mad at someone while driving. Edward would always turn to him and tell him not to do that otherwise Aunt Mary'll tan his hide.

"Wow," Thomas said, "she gave you the bird Haytham! That's gutsy."

"The bird?" Haytham frowned. "That didn't look like a bird at all, that looked like her middle finger, but I'm not driving, so why is she mad at me?"

Thomas snickered before singing loudly, "Haytham and Ziio sittin' in a tree! K-I-S-S-I-N-G! First comes lo—"

"Thomas stop that!" Haytham shouted and would have tackled his friend if it weren't for a hand on his shoulder.

"Uhm, thank you," Charles said. Haytham blinked. "For saving me back there. She is a mucky savage, Pa said so."

"Regardless," Haytham muttered, "you shouldn't say that. It's not nice and you're welcome." Haytham turned to go.

"Can I really play with you?" Charles asked.

"Only if you never say that to her again or anything else your father says about her," Haytham stipulated.

"Alright," Charles agreed.

"We can bring him into the Templars this weekend Haytham," William said.

"No," Haytham protested, "he has to prove that he'll keep his word first. Then he can be a real member of the Templars."

* * *

Haytham pushed the door to his house open that afternoon, tossing his backpack into the wooden box by the door. "Father, I'm home!"

"Hey sea urchin!" Edward called from the kitchen. Haytham walked in, and smacked his forehead.

"That apron, Father?" Haytham asked.

"What?" Edward looked at his son, "I like it," he said, pointing to the lettering on it. "I'm Captain Awesome."

"It's a sight for sore eyes, Kenway," Mary Read said, sipping a beer as she leaned against the counter. "Hey, kiddo."

"Hi Aunt Mary," Haytham greet, "you babysitting me tonight?"

"Sure am, we'll get your homework squared away and then watch M*A*S*H* afterward."

"I can't believe you don't like my apron, Mary," Edward grumbled, plucking at the red garment he wore.

"Cool, oh and I have a question Father," Haytham asked.

"Shoot, sea urchin," Edward said.

"Don't call me that, I'm six," Haytham growled. "Anyway, my question is this," he curled back all his fingers on his right hand save for the middle one, "a girl at school showed me this today, Thomas called it the bird, but it doesn't look like a bird. So… what does it mean?" Haytham asked. Mary's eyes grew wide and Edward paled noticeable.

"God damn it Edward!" Mary shouted, slapping Edward. "How many times have I told you not to flip people off while driving! Do you want him to grow up swearin' like a bloody damn sailor? You're a father now! You have to mind your go damn language! You can't just swear in front of your kid!"

"Uhm… Aunt Mary?" Haytham breathed, watching his father rub his cheek.

"Mary, I—" Edward began.

"No!" Mary snapped, before turning to Haytham. "Haytham, that is a very bad bit of sign language. Never use it."

"Yes, but what does it mean?"

"You don't need to know, and your father," Mary glared at Edward, "shouldn't be using it while he drives."

"Mary, damn it, he said some girl—"

"Mind the stove Haytham, while I'll go tan your father's hide," Mary growled, grabbing Edward by the bicep and dragging him away from the stove. Haytham snatched the spatula from his father before pushing over the step stool and began to slowly stir the contents of what will eventually be dinner.

"And she gets mad at Father for swearing," Haytham muttered as he listened to his Aunt Mary slap his father and cuss him out.

* * *

 **Over all I like this chapter. I think it's really cute and I got to work in Mary Read. Hahah. Everyone fears the wrath of Mary Read! Muwhahahaha!**

 **It's so cute how they call themselves Templars. :3**

 **Haytham's a smart boy, he knows not to repeat his Aunt Mary's foul language.**

 **What do you guys want to see next? I want to do a couple of happy ones before the sad arch comes.**

 **Save an author; leave a review!**

 **Again, I'm just going to assume all those people that don't review** **hate** **this story.**

 **-Nemo**


	6. Achievement Unlocked

**Assassin's Creed (c) Ubisoft**

 **Concept (c) Sannam**

* * *

Haytham growled as he slammed the door closed behind him before violently throwing his backpack into the wooden box by the door. His face throbbed, bits of dried blood still clung to his upper lip and he could feel the start of a bruise over his left eye. Ziio had managed to ruin his Friday when she chucked a dodge ball at his head during recess. Haytham just had the ill luck of turning around right at that moment, allowing the rubber ball to collide with his face.

He took his jacket off and hung it up on the coat rack before heading into the kitchen. His father was nowhere to around, but he could hear the low rumble of AC/DC coming from some part of the house. He walked into bathroom and washed it face. He opened his mouth, inspecting the collage of baby teeth, halfway visible adult teeth and gaps. He had one more tooth to lose, an eyetooth on the bottom left side. Pity Ziio's attack didn't knock it out. He touched it, wiggling it slightly. Haytham wondered if he should let Uncle Thatch yank it out with a pair of pliers, but decided the tooth wasn't loose enough just yet for extraction. He headed into the kitchen, pulling out bread, a knife, peanut butter and strawberry jelly. His father popped in as he slathered jelly onto a slice of bread. "Haytham, you're home!" Edward said.

"Yeah," Haytham grumbled, hoping his father wouldn't get too overly concern about his face. Haytham felt another bruise forming on the bridge of his nose. "School was fine."

"What happened to your face, son?" Edward asked, setting down the wrench he held and walking up to his son. He tilted Haytham's head up, turning it from side to side. "Didja run into a wall?"

"No," Haytham growled, pulling his face away from his father. "Ziio threw a ball at my face."

"Who's Ziio?"

"Some stupid girl in my class," Haytham said before chomping down on his sandwich. "I'm starting to agree with Charles and Thomas that she's a violent tomboy."

"Why did she throw a ball at you?" Edward asked as he opened the cupboard and got two glasses out. He opened the fridge and pulled out the gallon of milk, broke the seal and sniffed it, satisfied that the milk had yet to spoil, he pour two glasses before putting it back into the fridge.

"Thanks," Haytham mumbled accepting the glass of milk. "And I don't know why she was throwing a ball at me! She always does stupid stuff like that, Father! Yesterday, it rained in the morning, but stopped before lunch so we had lunch recess outside, and do you know what she did?" Haytham asked, giving his father an imploring look.

"Nuh-uh." Edward shook his head.

"She threw mud at me! When I tried to comfort her, she told me to leave her alone otherwise she'll tell a teacher before running off! Three days ago she poured milk on my head!"

Edward laughed. "That's why you called and had me bring you a change of clothes, wondering what you could've gotten into on that playground."

"It's not funny, Father!" Haytham seethed, taking his frustration out on his poor sandwich. "She's crazy!"

"Have you done anything to her?" Edward asked. "Girls hold grudges like you wouldn't believe." Edward looked away, "I should know too," he grumbled.

"I told her to not beat up Charles and then a few weeks ago I had to track her down during lunch recess to get her to rescue the Frisbee we were playing with that got stuck up in a tree. She was angry both times."

"Well Haytham, she probably has a wee crush on you," Edward said. Haytham stared, his eyes nearly popping out.

Ziio.

Violent, tomboy, Ziio.

Has a crush on him!

Besides, if he allowed himself to admit it, _he_ was the one with the crush.

"No, that's impossible Father. She hates us! All because we're friends with Charles and he called her a mucky savage! She especially hates me, because I came to Charles' rescue!" Haytham said.

"I bet ya dollar that she does," Edward said. Haytham frowned.

"Girls are crazy Father," Haytham stated, finishing off his sandwich and taking a gulp of his milk. "I'm never going to get married."

Edward tossed his head back and laughed. "Oh, Haytham," Edward chuckled, "I said the same thing when I was your age. I got married twice."

"You did? Then where's my step-mom?" Haytham asked, wondering where his stepmother was. He knew his mother died when he was a baby, and all he knew of her was what was captured in the photos that his father kept in his room and that her name was Tessa. His father didn't talk about his mother.

Edward sobered rather swiftly. "Your mother was my second wife, Haytham. Caroline was my first wife. She lives in New York with your half-sister, Jenny."

"Oh, can I meet them someday?" Haytham asked, not sure how to feel about his half-sister and her mother.

"Someday," Edward agreed and drained his milk. Haytham wondered if his father wished the milk were beer.

"I'm serious though," Haytham said, "about never getting married."

"Right," Edward said. "Keep tellin' yourself that. One day you'll change your mind."

"No," Haytham said, adamant, "never."

Edward grinned as he stood up. "Anyway, sea urchin, I wanna show you something. A little improvement I made to the bathroom!"

Haytham felt a knot of dread began to tangle in his stomach. "Father," Haytham said slowly, "what did you do?"

"Come look," Edward said, "I found it on Amazon. It's brilliant!"

Haytham followed his father with trepidation. In the bathroom, with its ocean themed decorations, toothbrush holder and soap dispenser was an opened Amazon shipping box where the old toilet seat rested, in its dingy white glory. Atop the toilet now sat a blue plastic toilet seat with seashells, a big bright orange starfish, bits of sand and two dolphins. Haytham sighed, amazed at how utterly tacky it was. "Do you think this bathroom needs more ocean stuff, Father?" Haytham asked. He was glad it wasn't the guest bathroom near the front of the house, at least that bathroom only had a sea horse soap dispenser.

"Don't count it out yet," Edward said. Haytham swallowed. "It gets better!"

Haytham wanted to tell his father that his definition of better and other people's were vastly different. "Okay?"

"It lights up!" Edward said, grinning like a child at Christmas as he opened the lid of the toilet seat. The seat, also blue with seashells, glowed a pale blue. "See, no more knockin' yar knees in the dark when ya have to take a midnight leak!"

Haytham stared, wondering just went on in his father's mind. "Father…"

"No, son! This purchase is the single greatest achievement of my life!"

* * *

 **I'll fix the errors after dinner!**

 **I wanted to do a squirt gun fight between the Templar kids and the Assassin kids, but I haven't figured out how to do it yet. So, this is set a couple of weeks after the last chapter. :D**

 **Edward's house has two baths, three bedrooms, and is one story. There's a guest bathroom near the front of the house, a second bathroom in the back between Haytham's room and the master bedroom. (It has all the crazy ocean/nautical themed stuff), and a guest bedroom near the living/family room.**

 **This chapter wasn't even supposed to be up today, but NOOK is pissing me off (they are getting rid of their Video option thing and one of the apps I need I can't download on my NOOK HD+ ) and I needed to vent my anger. So, Haytham is upset and vowing to never to get married.**

 **Haytham's reaction to him learning of Jenny is based on personal experience.**

 **Save an author; leave a review!**

 **I'll assume that those that don't review** **hate** **this story.**

 **-Nemo**


	7. Bittersweet

**Assassin's Creed (c) Ubisoft**

 **Concept: Sannam**

* * *

 _Edward fiddled with his wedding ring, while sitting in the waiting room. Complications had arouse and they rushed Tessa into surgery to do an emergency C-section. He didn't know if Caroline had any complications when she had Jenny, since he frankly wasn't there, so needless to say he was a bundle of over anxious nerves._

 _Edward sighed, running his hand through his hair, wanting a doctor to at least come out and tell him that his wife and son were all right, anything to ease the anxiety of waiting. "Mr. Kenway?" a woman asked. Edward looked up to see the doctor, a wide smile on the woman's face. "Mother and child are doing excellent. We've moved your wife to a nice room in the maternity ward, they're waiting for you."_

 _"Thank you," Edward said as he stood up._

 _"This way, I'll take you to them," the doctor said, leading Edward through the corridors of the hospital. Edward wiped his hands on his jeans, feeling more nervous than he did sitting there. He was moments away from meeting his son, Haytham. The thought of being a father petrified him, having utterly failed with Jenny. Now here was a new little life that he could potentially screw up._ No. No, I won't screw this up. This is my second chance. Whatever comes, I won't drive Tessa and Haytham away. No matter what, I couldn't bear to lose them both. _Edward thought, as he walked through the door into the room they had put Tessa in._

 _His wife, her chocolate locks sweaty and cascading around her, looked weary and overjoyed simultaneously. Nestled in her arms, in a sky blue blanket, was their son. "Ted," Tessa whispered. Edward flushed, embarrassed that she'd call him that here of all places. "Come see our son, Edward."_

 _Edward closed the gap between them and gently pulled the blanket down to see his little boy. Haytham, with his eyes squeezed tightly shut, slumbered on in the safety of his mother's arms. "Isn't he beautiful, Edward?" Tessa breathed, staring at her baby, utterly enraptured with the little life she had birthed. "Hello Haytham, Mommy and Daddy are so pleased to finally meet you." She pressed a kiss to her tiny son's forehead._

 _"He's perfect Tessa," Edward said._

 _"Hold him." She offered the baby to him and Edward swallowed, glancing around, trying to find a way out._

 _"What if I drop him?" Edward muttered. "I'm… I've never held a baby."_

 _"Not even Jenny?"_

 _"I wasn't around much when she was a baby," Edward replied, "so no."_

 _"No worries, it's instinct, you_ know _how to hold him," Tessa said and pressed Haytham to her husband's chest. Edward wrapped his arms around the newborn, nestling his head in the crook of his arm and holding him close to his chest. Haytham whimpered and squirmed, but upon hearing his father's heartbeat he settled down, still tired from the most exhausting event so far in his young life: being born._

 _Edward sat down in the chair next to Tessa's bed, fearful his legs would give out. He stroked Haytham's tiny fingers, and his son wrapped them around one finger. "He's so small," Edward whispered._

 _"Mmm… I know, though the doctor assured me he was of normal weight and length, I'm sure he'll bulk up as he grows," Tessa said, resting her cheek against Edward's head. "My boys."_

 _"We're a family now, Tessa. The three of us, a real family," Edward looked at her, "you know Thatch'll probably throw a welcoming party when we get home to celebrate."_

 _"I know, it'll be nice, since I was never able to schedule a baby shower," Tessa mused._

 _"Tessa, don't leave me," Edward whispered. "Please, I can't bear to lose you."_

 _Tessa smiled as she cupped his face, before pressing a kiss to his forehead. "Oh, Edward… I already have left you."_

 _"No_ _—"_

* * *

"—Tessa!" Edward shouted, jerking awake. He took in several breathes, as reality settled in around him. "Just a nightmare," he muttered, "just a nightmare." He rubbed his face before glancing at the clock. The green numbers flashed four o'clock in the morning, on November 30th. Haytham's seventh birthday was in five days.

Edward got out of bed and pulled a pair of pajama bottoms on, before heading into his son's room. He glanced at Haytham's room, a plane white desk with scuff marks and chips had a few action figures on it as well as a desk lamp. A plain, beat up dresser in one corner, and above the desk were shelves with books, mostly the _Magic School Bus_. Edward spied his son curled up in bed, blankets tangled around him and old stuffed eagle tucked under his arm. Like the rest of the furniture in Haytham's room, the bed was also rather plane, and the toy eagle Edward found at the Goodwill one day.

* * *

 _Haytham chewed on the beak of the toy eagle, grey eyes following his mother while his father held him. "I'll be back around three," Tessa said, stuffing her keys into her purse. "Thanks for letting me have this."_

 _"Hey, it's no problem," Edward replied, bouncing Haytham up higher. The boy merely blinked at his father. "The little sea urchin and I have some quality time to spend together, plus even mamas need to recharge, isn't that right Haytham?" Edward asked, tickling his son's stomach. Haytham giggled._

 _"Well, I'm glad," Tessa said. "Bye-bye Haytham, Mommy will be back soon," she cooed, kissing Haytham's chubby cheek. "Bye," she told her husband, picking his lips. "Love you."_

 _"Love you too, Tessa," Edward said, watching her leave, unaware that would be the last time he saw her alive. The door closed and Edward turned, hoisting his son over his head. "C'mon, Haytham, let's go build ourselves a block fort and you can knock it down? Whaddya say?"_

 _By the grin on Haytham's face, he was extremely pleased with the idea. Edward smiled back in return and spent the next few hours building block forts and watching his young son, smash them with his toy eagle._

 _The doorbell rang. "Bet that's Mama," Edward said, even though he new Tessa couldn't have been done with shopping that early, it was only two-thirty and the mall as a good half hour away from their house. Haytham made an enthused noise and held up his hands. Edward scooped him up, tucking Haytham close before heading to the door._

 _Edward was shocked to see a police officer on his doorstep. He swallowed, keeping his face neutral, and wondering what the cop could want from him. He'd been out of illegal activity since he met Tessa and now doubly so since Haytham came along. "Afternoon Officer," Edward greeted, "what brings you to my humble home?"_

 _"Mr. Kenway," the officer said and glanced at Haytham, who had resumed chewing the beak of his toy eagle. "Maybe I come inside?"_

 _"Uh, sure…" Edward stepped aside to allow the officer access to his home. The officer closed the door and glanced around, noting family photos. One in particular caught his eye, featuring Tessa, Haytham and Edward, all smiling around a birthday cake with a one-shaped candle on top._

 _"Nice family," the officer said, and Edward felt the man sounded guilty._

 _"Taken last year, my son's first birthday," Edward said, not bothering to mask the note of pride in his voice. "He liked the frosting."_

 _"Heh." The office took his hate off and rubbed his short cropped hair. "Mr. Kenway, I'm sorry but there is no easy way for me to tell you this…" he trailed off._

 _"Tell me what?" Edward asked, holding onto Haytham with both hands now. He felt the sudden urge of being in close physical contact with someone, and holding Haytham settled his nerves, slightly._

 _"Mr. Kenway, your wife… she's been killed. Drive by shooting. A bullet went astray and struck her in the chest, piercing her aorta. She died in seconds. I'm sorry."_

 _There was silence and an unearthly stillness, broken only by a motherless child's wails of grief driven despair, and Haytham's toy eagle lay abandoned on the floor._

* * *

Edward sighed, looking away from the toy eagle, before going over to sit on Haytham's bed. He stroked his son's head until he woke. "Father?" Haytham whispered, cracking an eye open. "Father, what's the matter?"

"Nothing, nothing," Edward muttered, forcing a smile. "Go back to sleep, just came in to check on you."

"Oh." Haytham blinked, rubbing his face against his pillow. "Night," he mumbled.

"Night," Edward muttered, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to his son's cheek. "Love ya, son."

"Love you too, Father," Haytham replied sleepily.

* * *

 **Just something bitter sweet I thought of as I turned off my PS3, after getting down playing AC4. I wrote it.**

 **Also, this comes with an announcement. Next month I'll be putting all fics on a temp. hiatus while I partake in Camp Nano, working on a new story idea. Hopefully, I'll have this finished but it not, don't expect any updates for an entire month.**

 **Also,** _ **Jackdaw in the Dark**_ **is on a temp. hiatus until I beat AC: Rogue.**

 **Just thought I let you guys know!**

 **Save an author; leave a review!**

 **I'll assume some level of** **loathing and hatred** **for this fic if you read but don't review.**

 **-Nemo**


	8. Confetti, Balloons, and Birthday Kisses

**Assassin's Creed (c) Ubisoft**

 **Concept: Sannam**

* * *

Haytham poked his cereal in a half-hearted manner. "What do ya want for your birthday, son?" Edward asked.

"Uhm… I gave you a list of things already," Haytham said, looking up. He scooped a spoonful of Cheerios out of the milk and stuck it into his mouth. "I wanted that Lego set and those dinosaurs."

"I know what you want," Edward said, sitting down with a cup of coffee. He took Haytham's glass of milk and poured it into his coffee up.

"Why don't you just pour milk from the jug into your coffee, Father?" Haytham asked.

"Always forget by the time I sit down," Edward said, ruffling his son's hair. Haytham frowned and pulled out the tie, he then gathered his hair back into a low tail and tied it at his nap. "Why don't you let your Aunt Anne cut it for ya?"

"I like my hair long," Haytham replied.

"Alright, alright," Edward said, holding up his hands defensively, Haytham pulled his lips together and gave his father a playful beady-eyed stare, before breaking into a smile and going back to his cereal. "I meant early was how do you want to celebrate you turning seven this year?"

"Like how we've always done it. Uncle Thatch, Uncle Ben, Uncle Áddie, Uncle Jack, Aunt Mary and Aunt Anne come over and we eat ribs and Aunt Anne makes a cake," Haytham said, shrugging.

"Well, what if I did something different this year," Edward prompted. Haytham looked up at his father, spoon in his mouth, "what if I invited some of your little school friends over."

"No."

"What? Why not? Wouldn't you like to have your buddies over? You kids can play games and stuff. I'm sure hanging around a bunch of grown-ups on your birthday isn't the most ideal birthday for a seven-year-old."

"I don't want my friends over," Haytham said.

"Why? Is it me? Do I embarrass ya, Haytham?" Edward asked, and Haytham stared at his father. He sounded hurt at the prospect of embarrassing his son.

"No, no, no!" Haytham protested, backpedaling quickly. "I'm not embarrassed by you Father. I just… feel… uh… uncomfortable bringing my friends over," Haytham said. "That's all."

"I understand," Edward said, placing a hand on his son's head. "I just want you to have a good birthday. Birthdays should be celebrated with your friends."

Haytham smiled, realizing that he had no choice but to agree to this birthday party idea. "Alright, I guess I can have a birthday party," Haytham sighed, and when his father smiled, he realized that his father would have found a way to get invitations to his friends, regardless if he wanted a party or not. Edward leaned backward in his chair and grabbed a small stack of party invitations. "You were planning this," Haytham muttered as his father handed him the stack.

"I think it's time you had a normal party like a normal kid," Edward said. Haytham accepted the invitations mutely. "Now hurry up, finish your breakfast and run a toothbrush through that mouth of yours. We need to get going otherwise we'll both be late."

* * *

Haytham would be damned if he gave his friends party invitations. He had an image to keep and he didn't want Thomas making fun of his house for the rest of the school year or Charles giving him discreet pitying looks. He worked hard to craft an image that didn't reflect his lower middle class economic status as best he could. Thus, he avoided his friends on the playground and made his way to the group of boys that were calling themselves Assassins.

"Uhm… uh… hi," Haytham said, a bit shyly. The five boys looked over at him, and Haytham was glad Achilles was absent from school that day, since Haytham frankly couldn't stand him. He had six invitations to hand out; he had to bring six people to his house.

"What do you want?" a boy with black hair and dark green eyes asked. Haytham looked at the invitations in his hands.

"Ethan," a round face boy with light brown skin chided his friend. "Hi, I'm Umar," the boy said and held out his hand.

"Haytham," Haytham replied, shaking Umar's offered hand.

"That's Ethan, Charles, and Giovanni," Umar said, pointing to his friends in turn.

"Why are you here?" Giovanni asked. "Finally decided that playing at knights is dull?"

"No!" Haytham seethed. "We are the Knights Templar and will be rulers of the world one day, just you watch!"

Ethan and Charles snickered. Haytham felt his cheeks turned pink and decided that he rather suffer Thomas making fun of his house for the rest of year. "Stop it," Umar snapped. "Whatcha got there?"

"Invitations to my birthday party," Haytham said.

"Why give us any? We aren't even friends," Charles Dorian pointed out.

"I get it," Ethan said, snapping his fingers, "he's embarrassed and doesn't want his _real_ friends finding out that he lives in a trailer. So, he's gonna ask us, because he knows we aren't really friends."

"I don't live in a trailer," Haytham snapped. "I live in a normal house. I _was_ going to ask you, but I changed my mind!" Haytham turned around.

"We'll go," Umar said, stopping Haytham in mid-step. "If you want us to, we'll go."

"Are you sure?" Haytham asked, looking at the four boys.

"Yeah, we'll go. Nobody should be alone on their birthday," Umar said, holding out his hand. Haytham looked at the others, who nodded and held out their hands, all save Ethan. Charles nudged him.

"Alright fine," Ethan held out his hand. Haytham handed Ethan the invitation, but before Haytham could let go Ethan got close to him. "You leave Cecily alone. She's mine."

"What?" Haytham gasped. All he knew of Cecily was that she was friends with Maud, Maria and Marie, and he didn't like those girls. They were always talking about girly things and whispering conspiratorially with each other.

"She's mine," Ethan hissed.

"Leave him alone Ethan," Umar sighed.

"Yeah, he doesn't even like Cecily or her friends," Giovanni pointed out. "He likes that weird girl. Diio or whatever her name is."

"It's Ziio," Haytham stressed, looking at Giovanni, "and I _don't_ like her."

"Right," Giovanni agreed, though his grin belied his seriousness. Haytham snorted and let go of the party invitation.

"I hope to see you all there," Haytham said and walked off. He glanced at his watch once he was far enough away from Umar and his friends. He still had plenty of time to find the last person he wanted at his party. He could invite Shay, but Shay may tell the others and he couldn't have that. So, Haytham wandered towards the outcropping of pine trees on the other side of the playground. He heard this was where Ziio liked to hang out.

"Ziio? Ziio, are you here?" he asked, looking around the trunks. A pinecone hit his head. "Ow!" he looked in the direction of where the pinecone came from, rubbing his forehead. Ziio suddenly appeared, legs hooked over a low hanging branch, hands holding the branch.

"What's up smelly butt?" she asked, a cheeky grin on her face, her twin braids dangling towards the earth.

"Don't call me that," Haytham hissed. "Did you throw that pinecone?"

"Did you throw that pinecone?" she mimicked.

"Ziio, stop that."

"Ziio, stop that."

"I mean it!"

"I mean it!"

"Ziio!"

"Haytham!" she shouted, giggling at his flummoxed expression. "What do you want?"

"I want to invite you to my birthday party," Haytham said. Ziio blinked and swung herself down. "It's Saturday."

"You aren't having your stupid friends there are you?" Ziio asked, folding her arms over her chest. Haytham stared at her face, noting she had a smudge of dirt across her nose.

"No. Charles isn't coming… well, Charles Dorian is, but not my frie—"

"I'll come," Ziio said and held out her hand.

"Pardon?" Haytham arched a brow.

"I said I'll come," Ziio repeated and made a grabby motion with her hand.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah," Ziio said. Haytham shrugged and handed the invitation over to her. "Thanks." She stuck the invitation into her pocket. "Why me though? You have friends."

"I… well," Haytham stammered. "I don't know," he admitted.

"Whatever," Ziio said, she turned and noticed Charles Lee heading towards them, "Looks like your little doggie has found you."

"He's not a dog, Ziio."

"Maybe I should scare the pee outta him," Ziio said with a grin.

"Don't," Haytham sighed, "please."

"Fine," Ziio huffed, before climbing back up into the tree. "You better go before he finds you hanging out with me."

"I'll see you Saturday," Haytham said, and run towards Charles.

* * *

Ziio was the first to show up to his party. Haytham was shocked to see her standing at his doorstep, staring at him with her wrapped gift in hand. "Hi, Haytham," she replied, grinning like the mad little tomboy she is.

"Haytham, who's this?" Edward asked, coming to stand behind his son. "He looks kinda girly for a boy."

"I'm a girl, and you look kinda scruffy for being a dad," Ziio quipped. Edward laughed, while Haytham hid his face in his hands.

"Oh come now, Haytham," Edward said, patting his son on the head. "I'm not gonna embarrass ya in front of your little girlfriend." Edward said, before heading towards the kitchen shouting, "Blackie, Haytham invited a girl!"

"She isn't my girlfriend!" Haytham snapped, glaring down the hall towards the kitchen. Ziio arched her brow, quizzically.

"Oh, Ziio," Umar said showing up before Ziio could ask Haytham further question, "I didn't know you were coming."

"Yep," Ziio said, smiling.

"Haytham, don't be rude, bring your friends in. I got Hawaiian punch," Edward called from the kitchen.

"Where are the others?" Haytham asked, gesturing for Umar and Ziio to come in, which they did.

"Giovanni, Charles and Ethan are on their way. Giovanni's mom is bringing them," Umar said, taking his shows off. "Wow… your place is uhm…"

"Trashy?" Ziio supplied.

"Don't you live on the reservation?" Umar asked.

"Nope, folks moved because they wanted me to go to school where the school books didn't have their names in it," Ziio said.

"Oh," Umar and Haytham said together. The doorbell rang again. "Uh, the kitchen is just straight ahead," Haytham said, pointing towards the kitchen. He answered the door, pleased to see Giovanni, Charles and Ethan. "Come in," he said, gesturing for the other boys to come in.

"Whoa, this place is a dump," Ethan said.

"Don't insult the host, Ethan," Charles said.

"What, I mean it as a good thing," Ethan protested. Haytham frowned.

"Kids, in here," Edward said. The four boys drifted towards the kitchen, where Umar and Ziio were already sitting around the table with silly pirate hats on their heads.

"Father, no!" Haytham whined.

"Cool," Ethan shouted, eyes falling to Thatch, who was kneading pizza dough. "Check out that dude's beard! It's awesome!" Ethan trotted up to Thatch. "Is your beard real?"

Thatch stared at the little boy. "Sure is."

"Haytham, who is that man?" Umar asked, looking at Thatch.

"Oh, he's my Uncle Thatch," Haytham explained. "Well, he's not my real uncle, but I call him that anyway."

"Alright, got some more! And Haytham you get the special birthday boy hat," Edward said, handing out four more hats before setting a blue-grey tricorner hat upon his son's head. "Alright, I've hidden one of Haytham's presents in the house, and you have to find it," Edward said, pulling out a crumbled up piece of paper, he straightened it out before handing it to Haytham. "Alright Haytham, you're the birthday boy, so you're the captain."

"Father," Haytham sighed.

"Go, have fun! Find your hidden treasure!" Edward said, making shooing motion and the six children.

"Pirates!" Ethan shouted, screaming as he ran towards the living room. "I'm gonna find the treasure!"

"C'mon Haytham! Let's go," Umar said and ran after Ethan, with Charles and Giovanni following. Haytham stared after the other boys.

"C'mon, they're gonna find your present by tearing the entire place apart," Ziio said.

"Actually, its right up there," Haytham pointed to the wrapped present on top of the china cabinet. "Father always hides one present up there, and makes me look for it."

"Oh cool! Check out this toilet seat!" Ethan's voice came from the bathroom. "It even glows! Umar, Giovanni! Look at this! Haytham has a glowing toilet seat!"

"Ethan, get out of the bathroom!" Haytham shouted, running towards them.

"Stop being such a killjoy Haytham," Ethan sighed, coming out of the bathroom. "What are we supposed to do? Do you know where the present is?"

"Yes, I do. Its on top of the china cabinet. Father hides it there every year," Haytham huffed.

"This party stinks," Ethan grumbled.

"You know," Ziio drawled, "we got a huge dump of snow last night, let's go outside and have a snowball fight. Your backyard is big enough."

"Yeah, but—"

"Then it's settled," Ziio said, "Three to a team; Umar, me and Haytham, versus the rest of ya lily-liver landlubbers."

"Ziio, I don't—"

"Unless you boys are afraid to hit a girl," Ziio said, looking at the five boys. "I bet I can beat all of you by myself."

"Pfft. No you can," Ethan snorted.

"What? Afraid to lose to a girl?" Ziio asked.

"No, cause I know I can beat you," Ethan replied.

"Prove it, and just to give you boys a fighting chance," she dragged Haytham closer to her, "Haytham will be with me since he throws like a girl."

"What! Ziio, Ethan… this is getting out of hand!"

"Can it Haytham," Ethan snapped. "Ziio wants to get her face covered in snow, let her. We can take her just find."

"And you do throw like a girl," Giovanni quipped.

"Mr. Kenway, we're going outside!" Ziio shouted, as they made through way to the front door to retrieve their shows.

"Uh… okay," Edward said as Haytham and the others marched to the backdoor. "You sure you don't want to play inside?"

"Its fine Father," Haytham said.

"You kids go on ahead," Edward said, holding Haytham back. "You having a good time?"

"Yeah," Haytham said, forcing a smile. "It's just… that…"

"What?"

"Nothing," Haytham said, smiling again. "I'm having fun." Haytham hugged his father around the middle. "Thanks," he bolted outside when he heard Ziio shout.

"He's not happy," Edward said, watching Haytham play in the backyard from the window.

"Come off of it, Kenway," Thatch said ladling tomato sauce onto the pizzas. "He appreciates the gesture."

"Yes, but Haytham isn't happy. I mean, look at him! He's getting pelted with snowballs. He's not friends with those boys."

"Friends or not, he's not faking those smiles with those kids out there," Thatch growled, "Come help me makes these pizzas."

"I'm just worried."

"Edward," Ádewalé said, walking into the kitchen holding a treasure chest piñata. "Where do ya want dis thing?"

"In the garage, I got a pulley and rope set up already for it."

"I don't dink dat yar old clunker should be out in da snow, Edward," Ádewalé said.

"It'll be find Áddie," Edward said, sprinkling cheese over a pizza. "Did you fill it up with candy?"

"Yep. Took five bags of jolly ranchers."

"Good, they'll like those," Edward said and glanced out the window, to watch his son and his friends.

Haytham and Ziio won the snowball fight, though Ziio did most of the work, while Haytham proved an effective distraction. They played out in the snow until Edward called them in for pizza. Haytham introduce them to his Uncle Áddie, and the six hungry children fell like ravenous wolves on the pizza and potato chips and Hawaiian Punch.

They opened a few of Haytham's presents, which consisted of a Lego set and a ship in a bottle model project, before they headed off to the garage, where Ethan busted the treasure chest piñata open.

"Ethan, you were supposed to let Haytham bust it open!" Giovanni protested.

"He'd've taken too long," Ethan said, pushing the blindfold up and watching the jolly ranchers spill out.

"That's okay, Giovanni, I don't mind," Haytham said, before stooping to scoop up the candy.

"Where's my birthday boy!" a woman's voice shouted.

"Is that your mom?" Umar asked, when a woman with red hair came in.

"Aunt Anne!" Haytham shouted, running up to her and giving her a hug. "These are my friends: Umar, Giovanni, Charles, Ethan and Ziio," Haytham said, pointing to each on in turn. "Ethan busted open the piñata."

"Sweet," Anne said, "I'm glad you kids are having fun. Your dad and Aunt Mary are setting up the cake. They want me to tell your friends to go get their gifts and put them with the others, it's time to cut the cake."

"Cake!" Ethan shouted, and bolted out of the garage.

"Wait, Ethan, you aren't the birthday boy!" Umar called, running after him. Haytham chuckled and followed them.

Like every year, Anne made an angel food cake with vanilla frosting, though this year the cake was nestled in more presents than normal. They sung _Happy Birthday_ , turning Haytham's ears pink. He blew out the seven candles before unwrapping his presents; Mary whisking away the cake to cut and dish it out.

Dinosaurs, a kite, a robot with buttons that made it say things, and a pretty leather bound book. "That's a funny book," Ethan said, grabbing it from Haytham's hands and flipping through it. "All the pages are blank."

"It's supposed to be like that," Haytham said, snatching it back. He ran his hands over the leather of the cover, his named pressed into hide and painted gold. "It's a journal. You write about stuff in it."

"Well that's dumb," Ethan grumbled.

"Where's your gift Ziio?" Haytham asked, looking at her. She stared at him before going back to her cake. "Ziio?"

She huffed, before heading to the front door and returning with her gift. "Here," she said, handing it to him. Haytham thanked her and opened it; he pulled from the shoebox a soft leather bag with beadwork and crude stitching.

"What is it?" Umar asked.

"Looks like some pouch," Ethan mumbled.

"Did you make this Ziio?" Haytham asked, running a thumb along the beadwork.

"Yeah, sorry it sucks," Ziio mumbled. "I didn't know what you wanted, so…"

Haytham picked up his journal and slipped it into the large pouch. "It's perfect!" he grinned, smiling as the leather journal fit into the pouch. "Thanks Ziio, it's beautiful."

The little Mohawk girl flushed. "Y-You think so?" she asked. Haytham stared at her, surprised by her lack of confidence.

"Yeah, I do," Haytham assured her. Ziio smiled. The party wound down from there, as the parents came to pick up the boys, until only Ziio remained. The doorbell rang for the final time that night.

"That's my mom," Ziio said, gathering her little bag of candy. "Thanks for inviting me, Haytham, I had fun."

"Uh… no problem," Haytham said, "I'm glad you could come." He watched her put her coat and shoes on.

Ziio looked around, making sure nobody was watching before pressing a chaste kiss to Haytham's cheek. "Happy birthday, Haytham," she whispered before leaving the house. Haytham stared at the door, one hand at his cheek.

That night as he laid in bed, desk lamp aglow, he wrote the first line in his journal: _Today the girl I liked gave me a kiss._

* * *

 **Cute and happy and terribly long chapter to follow up the depressing one.**

 **Maud, Maria, Marie and Cecily are Altair's, Ezio's, Arno's, Evie and Jacob's mothers respectfully.**

 **I didn't have a lot of parties growing up, so I'm sorry the party fell flat.**

 **Ziio's reason for not living on the reservation is actually has a story behind it. Last year, Sherman Alexie, a well-known Native American author and poet, and a member of the Spokane Tribe, came to my college to speak to us. One of the stories he shared was finding his mother's name in his textbook at the reservation school, which prompted him to ask his parents to send him to a school outside the reservation.**

 **Anyway, review and tell me how much you enjoyed this chapter.**

 **Don't review and I just assume you thought this chapter was horrid.**

 **Save an author; leave a review!**

 **-Nemo**


	9. Happy Birthday, Father

**Assassin's Creed (c) Ubisoft**

* * *

Haytham woke with a start. The nightmare had been rather vivid, and when he closed his eyes he still saw images of it. He shuddered, before slipping out of bed and padding across the room out into the hall and into his father's room; Edward's soft snores and darkness greeted Haytham. Glancing at his watch, which read 4:15 am, Haytham judged his father got home about an hour ago, maybe two hours ago. Tiptoeing softly, Haytham crawled onto the bed and wormed his way up close to his father. Edward snorted in his sleep.

"Haytham?" Edward asked sleepily, one eye open.

"I had a nightmare," the boy asked, "can I stay with you?"

"Huh? Sure… yeah, yeah," Edward mumbled, draping his arm over Haytham and pulling his son close. "Close yar eyes…" Edward was snoring again. Haytham felt his lips twitch in a small smile as he snuggled closer to his father. His eyes drooped only to snap open when he remembered the date, March 10th. He'll have to do something nice for his father.

 _I know! I'll make blueberry pancakes and a cake for Father and give him breakfast in bed!_ Haytham thought. Glad he had a plan; he went to sleep.

* * *

Haytham woke up again around eight. His father was asleep on his stomach, limbs akimbo, and drool oozing down the corner of Edward's mouth onto his pillow. Haytham knew his father would sleep for a few more hours, which gave Haytham plenty of time to make pancakes and a cake.

Slipping out of bed, Haytham tiptoed back to his room, dressed in his rattiest clothes before heading the kitchen. He ate a quick breakfast of cereal and orange juice before pushing his step stool up to the counter. "Right… pancakes," Haytham muttered, having no idea how to make pancakes. "I'll start the cake!" he decided, and got out a big glass bowl. He knew that cakes had milk, eggs, flour, and sugar, remembering how his father tried to pass off giving him cake for dinner as healthy. Aunt Mary had tanned his father's hide because of that.

Haytham hopped off his stool and rummaged around in the cupboards looking for flour and sugar. He found a large unopened bag of flour and a five pound unopened bag of sugar. "Crap," he muttered, "I thought we had opened ones?" Haytham sighed, rubbing his forehead, and pushing his hair behind his ear, having forgotten to tie it back. He cut open the bags of flour and sugar and took a large measuring cup, filled it up with flour and dumped it in the bowl. He did the same with the sugar, only filling the cup half full adding that to the flour.

"Now, milk and eggs," Haytham chirped, glancing over his shoulder towards his father's bedroom to make sure he was still sleep. Nothing. Coast was still clear. Grinning, Haytham pulled the milk out of the fridge, took off the cap and trotted across the kitchen, milk sloshing out and onto the floor. "Oh… oops," he muttered as he set the milk onto the counter before getting onto his step stool. He poured milk in until the flour and sugar was submerged, then he put the milk back into the fridge, sloshing more and got eggs.

Haytham wasn't every good at cracking eggs. He dropped a couple onto the floor, stepped in one, leaving yoke footprints around the kitchen, even bits of shell got into the batter. No matter, Haytham was determined to make this cake. He got the a wooden spoon, after putting in half a dozen eggs and began to stir, milk and egg sloshing over the edge onto the counter top. Another thing he'd have to clean up.

Being seven his arms got tired rather quickly, so he set the wooden spoon onto the counter and went in search of the electric handheld whisk. He found it after rummaging as quietly as he could through the cupboards. It took a few frustrating minutes to put the brace of whisks into the machine, but he managed. He plugged it in and stuck the two metal whisks into the batter, held the handle with both hands and with his right thumb pressed the on button.

The electrical whisk whirled into life, sending vibrations up Haytham's spindly seven-year-old arms and causing the bowl to shudder in whatever direction Haytham oved the whisk. The batter was slowly become a thick beige gloppy substance, bubbles popping up every now and then.

The whisk shuddered, dangerously close to the side of the bowl. "Uh-huh," Haytham muttered trying to move the machine back into the center, where he had slightly better control. The batter was too thick by this point to do it effective and Haytham's child arms weren't strong enough. The whisk hit the side of the bowl. Haytham lost control, dropping the electrical whisk, which clattered against the bowl and sent the bowl spinning away. It crashed, batter going everywhere, and causing Haytham to jump in fright, falling off his stool, the electrical whisk still whizzing angrily on the counter top.

Batter was everywhere, even on Haytham, but most ended up on the floor and cupboards, a few globs found home on the ceiling. He had only felt really crummy in his entire life twice. The first time was when his friends refused to play with him for an entire week since he didn't invite them to his birthday party. He had since made up with them, Charles even joining their club officially. But he had moped around the playground; sometimes Ziio would follow him, throwing pebbles at his head, for the entire week. She told him the following Monday that they changed their mind and were willing to accept his apology. Haytham had a sneaking suspicious that she threatened to beat them up if they didn't, but he couldn't prove it.

The second time was right now. "Haytham…." Edward asked. _Yep._ Haytham thought, _this is the number one worst moment of my life_.

Edward had rushed out after hearing a scream and the sound of breaking glass. He ran to the kitchen and stared at the culinary warzone, his son at the epicenter. Batter, he assumed it was batter, was everywhere, hunks of broken glass in every corner, the electric whisk whizzing angrily on the counter top. Edward sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Jaysus, Mary and Joseph," Edward muttered. He rubbed his face with both hands. "Haytham, what the hell did you do?"

Normally on Saturdays, Haytham would eat breakfast while watching cartoons. Not attempt to bake. Edward stared at his son, who couldn't meet his eyes. "I'm waiting for an answer young man," Edward said, arms over his chest. "Well?"

Haytham raised his head slowly, swallowed a few times before taking a deep breath. "H-Happ—" he couldn't finished, instead bursting into tears.

"Haytham," Edward sighed, and picked his way towards his son and pulled the boy into a hug. "Haytham, it's alright, I'm not that mad. Nothing we can't fixed."

"I'm sorry Father, I'm sorry!" Haytham sobbed, clinging to his father's stained white T-shirt.

"Hey, calm down sea urchin," Edward said, pushing his son away so he could look into his face. "I'm not mad. I'm just… concerned. You aren't hurt are you?"

"No. I just…" Haytham sniffed, rubbing away his tears. "I just wanted you to be happy, that's all."

Edward leaned back as if Haytham just slapped him. "Happy? Why wouldn't I be happy?"

"Dunno," Haytham muttered, staring at the batter on the floor. "I mean… I don't have a present for you and I… uh… wanted to do something nice… so…" Haytham hung his head. "I tried making a cake."

Edward stared at his son for several long moments as he processed the information. He glanced at the calendar; saw today's date and his eyes widened. Today was his birthday. He totally forgot today was his birthday!

"I wanted to include pancakes and let you eat them in bed and—"

"Haytham," Edward said, "thank you. I appreciate it but you don't have to get me anything."

"I… I don't?" Haytham frowned.

"No. You already got me the greatest birthday gift in the world," Edward said.

"I did? How?"

Edward chuckled and poked his son's cheek. Haytham smiled. "Your smile," Edward said. Haytham's smile widened into a grin as his father hugged him. "C'mon, let's get this mess cleaned up and we'll go to Denny's for breakfast. Áddie and the boss at the bar were nice to me and gave me the day off. So we can do whatever you want. Sound good?"

Haytham nodded.

* * *

That night, Edward and Thatch sat around the kitchen table, drinking beer. Haytham was there too, but fast sleep, the extra chair supporting his feet while he rested his head on Edward's lap. "Thanks for coming, Blackie," Edward whispered, hand on his son's shoulder. He could feel the steady rise and fall of Haytham's chest.

"What are friends for," Thatch grumbled. "Happy birthday, Kenway." A sucking sounded filled the silence and something water and gooey landed on Thatch's forehead. "Kenway, what the hell is on my forehead?"

Edward hid his chuckle by sipping his beer. "Cake batter, curtesy of Haytham."

"Aah, fuck."

* * *

 **Lame ending is lame. I'm posting this quickly cause it's time to eat.**

 **Time to go Edward!**

 **Save an author; leave a review!**

 **I'll assume that no reviews mean you** **hate** **this story.**

 **-Nemo**


	10. Grasshopper Cookies

**Assassin's Creed (c) Ubisoft**

* * *

There was a squealing whine, a loud clang followed by a bang, and the car slowly rolled to a stop, steam hissing out from beneath the hood. Haytham eyed the billowing silver clouds skeptically, luckily they had arrived at the school parking lot. At least he wasn't going to be late, Haytham glanced at Edward, he wasn't so sure that his father would make it to Uncle Áddie's shop on time. "Father?"

"Ah, fuck," Edward sighed, resting his head on the steering wheel. He put the car into park and turned the engine off. "Don't repeat that okay sea urchin?"

"Got it," Haytham sighed and unbuckled himself. He was early and wasn't in any rush to make it to the classroom. "You're going to be okay, right Father?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'll be fine," Edward sighed, sitting up right suddenly and resting his head against the head rest. "You go and have fun at school."

"Are we gonna need a new car?" Haytham asked, eyeing the still hissing steam.

"Eventually. Nothing I or Uncle Áddie can't fix," Edward said, smiling. He put his hand on Haytham's head. "Don't worry about it, son. I'll figure something out. I always do, don't I?"

"Yeah," Haytham agreed.

"Hey… I know school's ending for ya real quick, and ya be off for the summer. I was thinking, maybe… towards the end of summer, we can go take a trip."

"Really?" Haytham's eyes grew wide and a tiny bubble of excitement welled up within him. He quickly stamped it down though, no need to get his hopes up. Money was tight and trips were expensive. "Can we afford a trip?"

"Don't worry about the money," Edward snapped. Haytham flinched. "Ya too young to worry about it. Let me worry, okay?"

 _That's the problem._ Haytham thought, _I do worry. I may not say anything and you pretend I don't notice, but I do. I do notice how living paycheck to paycheck is taking its toll. You don't think I notice how you drink yourself into a stupor around the end of the month? Or that we visit Aunt Mary or Uncle Thatch around that time because there's not enough food and you know they'll feed us something decent or they come over with four bags of groceries or that you steal gas from the neighbours because it's either buy groceries or buy gas that week. I do notice these things, Father._ "Alright," Haytham said. "I'll concentrate on school." _I just put on this brave face for your sake._

"Good lad," Edward mumbled. "So, I was thinkin' if this works out we'll go to Disneyland for a few days; doesn't that sound good?"

Haytham smiled. "That sounds great," he said and hoped they could actually pull it off. He wondered if he should start a lemonade stand to help earn extra income. Kids did that, and he was pretty sure his father wouldn't object to it. He may be able to get his friends in on it too.

"Then its set, that's our plan for the summer, Disneyland in August, we'll have tons of fun," Edward said. Haytham swallowed, though he still smiled. "C'mere," Edward said and pulled Haytham into a tight hug. "Sorry I snapped at ya," he mumbled.

"It's okay Father, I understand," Haytham muttered. _Not really, but I say it regardless because it makes you feel better._

"Remember Haytham, I'll whale always love ya," Edward said.

"Father…" Haytham sighed, "I love you too."

Edward smiled and kissed his son on the forehead. "Now, hurry off to school," Edward said, patting his son on the shoulder. Haytham nodded, eyed the car once, before opening the door and trotting up to the growing crowd of students. "Bye Haytham! Have fun at school, sea urchin!" Edward shouted, as he leaned over to pull the passenger door close. He saw Haytham shoot him a glare before running to join his little friends. Edward slammed the door close and started the engine.

The car protested, making a whirling whining sound. "C'mon, c'mon, c'mon! Start! Fucking start you fucking piece of shit!" Edward shouted, slamming his hand against the dash. He tried the key again, the engine protested once more before coughing into life. "Sweet baby Jaysus," Edward muttered, putting the car into drive and drove off to Ádewalé's shop.

* * *

It was a slow day and for that Edward was thankful for the car gave a wheezy sigh as he pulled into his parking spot behind Ádewalé's mechanic shop. "Áddie, Áddie," Edward called, as he got out of the car.

"What mon?" Ádewalé asked, pushing himself out from underneath a car. He glanced at Edward's car, smoking from beneath the hood. "What da fuck did ya do?" Ádewalé asked, half-outraged and half-disbelieving.

"I think she's on her last leg," Edward sighed.

"I'll say," Ádewalé agreed before finishing up what he was doing beneath the car he was working on. "You're lucky dat today is a slow day," Ádewalé grumbled as he walked over to Edward's car. "Pop da hood," he said. Edward popped the hood and when Ádewalé lifted it up, a large cloud of steam billowed up. Ádewalé backed away, coughing.

"Well? What's the matter?" Edward asked. Ádewalé glared at him, before looking at the car. He poked and prodded here and there, muttering to himself beneath his breath. Finally, he took a few steps back, wiping his hands on his orange handkerchief.

"She's fucked," Ádewalé said. "I suggest ya get a new car, put her down gently."

"Áddie, I can't exactly afford a new car right now," Edward explained, "she's all I got. Can she be fixed?"

"I can fix her," Ádewalé agreed, "well… at least she'll be able to limp a few more dousand miles. But it's—"

"Coming out of my pay check, I know, I know," Edward sighed. He ran his hand through his hair and muttered _fuck_ beneath his breath. "I'll get a new car soon. Hopefully."

"It'll be safer," Ádewalé said.

"Just… please fix her," Edward sighed.

"I don't understand why ya're holdin' onto dis car so long," Ádewalé said.

"Are you kiddin' me? Haytham was nearly born in the backseat! Luckily I got to the hospital when I did, Tessa had complications with the birth," Edward said.

"Look, Edward," Ádewalé began, though he didn't really know what to say. Nobody did when it came to Tessa or Caroline. Edward refused to talk about either of his two wives. "I'll do what I can."

"Thanks, mate," Edward replied, "that's all I ask."

"Yeah, well ya better get to work," Ádewalé said. Edward laughed and headed off to man the stuffy little office.

* * *

Everyone in class looked up when the secretary poked her head into Mrs. Bruckley's classroom. "Haytham Kenway," the secretary said and everyone's eyes shot to Haytham and he froze, staring at the wall before looking at the rat faced woman. "Come with me," she said. Slowly, Haytham stood up, aware that everyone was staring at him, and briskly walked to the secretary.

The woman didn't say a word as she led Haytham out of the classroom, down the hall and then another until they reached the library, which was roughly at the center of the school. She led Haytham into the quiet library and to a desk in the far corner where a blond woman sat, thumbs tapping something out on her phone. The secretary cleared her throat and the woman looked up. "Thank you," she said and dismissed the secretary with a wave. "Sit, Haytham," the blond woman said.

Haytham sat, slipping his hands between his knees. "Uhm… am I in trouble?" he asked. The blond woman tapped one final button before looking at Haytham.

"What? No, no, no!" the woman assured him. "Tic-tac?" she offered Haytham the plastic box of mints. He shook his head. She shrugged and slipped it back into her bag. "I'm Lucy Miles." She smiled. Haytham mutely nodded. "Do you know why I'm here?"

"No?" Haytham arched a brow.

"I'm a social worker, I make sure children live in good homes with good parents," Lucy said, "that's my job."

"Are you going to take me away from my father?" Haytham asked, feeling his shoulders tense. "Cause there's nothing wrong at home. Father takes good care of me! He tries really hard and makes sure one of my aunts or uncles is there to watch me when he works late. He tells me not to swear and don't run yellow lights unless I know I can make it, and also to never hit a woman, because no decent man should ever hit a woman."

Lucy blinked and then smiled; it was forced. "I'm not here to take you away. I'm just here to ask some questions because Mrs. Müller from across the street is concerned about a boy living in your house."

"Mrs. Müller lost her marbles," Haytham said, "she called me Hayden once."

"Regardless," Lucy tsked, "I still have to investigate when she claims that abuse is going on in your home."

"There's no abuse," Haytham sighed. "Look, Ms. Miles—"

" _Mrs. Miles_ ," Lucy hissed.

"My father doesn't abuse me. I told you he takes very good care of me and Mrs. Müller is crazy. She keeps thinking my mother is alive and pregnant with me or she confuses us with the family that use to live in the house. There is nothing wrong. You can see for yourself that I'm fed, have clean clothes and I'm clean," Haytham said.

"Yes, but I must ask," Lucy said, "has your father ever touched you in a way that made you feel uncomfortable?"

"No!" Haytham shouted, standing up and slamming his hands down on the desk as he did so. "No! Never in a million years! My father loves me!" Haytham ignored the looks that pinch-faced Mrs. Kirja shot him.

"Haytham, please settle down, these are standard questions and—"

"No!" Haytham shouted. "I don't want to answer any more questions!" Haytham looked at the librarian. "Mrs. Kirja, I want to go back to my class. I don't want to talk to Ms. Miles—"

" _Mrs. Miles_!"

"Anymore. I don't feel safe around her."

"Ma'am," Mrs. Kirja said, coming over to their corner, "I must ask you to leave."

"With all due respect ma'am, these questions are standard questions for—"

"I do not care," Mrs. Kirja seethed, "I've met Mr. Kenway at a book fair in the fall. He's a charming roguish man, that's utterly devoted to his son! I assure you, I'd know if Mr. Kenway was a perverted sicko! Now, get out of my library and stop harassing my student!"

Lucy sighed, standing up. She closed her planner and grabbed her black leather purse. "I'm sorry if I disturbed you Haytham, but try to understand that all I want to do is help and to make sure you are in a good home."

"I am and I don't need your help," Haytham hissed. Lucy grimaced before walking off. Haytham watched her go, twisting the band of his watch.

"You don't have to go back to your classroom just yet, Haytham," Mrs. Kirja said.

"Thanks, I think I'll stay here for a bit," Haytham mumbled. Mrs. Kirja nodded and went back behind her desk, watching as Haytham wondered to the back of the library where the chapter books were and randomly pulled one off the shelf. He tucked himself up into a corner and began to read.

* * *

"Ow," Haytham grumbled, rubbing his head as he sat on the curb waiting for someone to pick him up. He glanced at his phone again. Still no call or text from his father. He ducked another flying pebble. "Ziio," he snapped, looking over at the Mohawk girl. She grinned.

"Didn't see you at lunch and you only came back to class after lunch recess, where were you?"

"In the library," Haytham muttered. "A social worker wanted to talk to me."

"Why? Is your dad a drug dealer?" Ziio asked, plopping down next to him. Haytham shook his head.

"Old Mrs. Müller from across the street called again, normally the person that answers the phone knows she's batty but this time I guess it got through," Haytham sighed.

"I'm sorry," Ziio said.

"Not your fault," he said, glancing at her and noticing the container she held. "What's in there?"

"Cookies, I made them myself," she explained, "wanna try one?"

"Sure." Haytham reached for a cookie, what seven-year-old would deny a cookie. He bit into it, smiling as the crunchy sweetness flooded his mouth. "What's the crunchy bits?"

"Grasshoppers," Ziio said, her face perfectly straight. Haytham's eyes grew wide and coughed out the bite into his hand. Ziio snickered as he tossed the chewed up cookie bit onto the ground. "I'm kidding," she said before he could toss the rest of the cookie. "I chopped up walnuts in there for a crunch."

Haytham glared at her. "Meanie," he muttered. Ziio laughed, leaning against him as he resumed eating the cookie. Haytham felt his cheeks flush as he felt her weight against him. "You practiced that."

"Yup," she agreed, "just for you."

He rolled his eyes and stared at her, noticing a turtle charm around her neck. "What's with the turtle?"

"Oh? It's symbolic," Ziio said, "my aunt carved it for me. Turtles are symbols of longevity and stability, plus there is the World Turtle that supports the world on her shell. It's also a symbol for women."

"So… it's like a good luck charm?" Haytham asked, he'd have to ask William to further explain the importance of turtles.

"I guess you can say that," Ziio shrugged, fiddling with her necklace. "What does Haytham mean?"

"It's Arabic for _young eagle_ ," he said.

"Eagles are important to my people, maybe I can bring you an eagle feather," Ziio said. "It'll look good with your pouch."

"No, I… it's fine Ziio," Haytham said, finishing the rest of his cookie. "Really, and look, my Uncle Thatch is here to pick me up." Haytham stood up, Ziio mimicking him. He stayed rooted to the spot however upon seeing the look on Thatch's face. "Uncle Thatch?" Haytham whispered once the black-haired man was close enough.

"Hey kid," Thatch mumbled, running his hand down his beard. "There's been… something happened…"

"What? Is Father okay? Did our house burn down?" Haytham asked, biting his lip.

"There's been an accident. Your father… he got into car crash."

The last thing Haytham heard was Ziio shouting his name.

* * *

 **And… I'll leave it there for tonight. Muwhahahah! Part II will hopefully be up tomorrow. I had computer issues so that's why this chapter wasn't up earlier. It took me all afternoon to get my computer back into working order and there are still things that aren't working.**

 **Suggestions as to what you want to see happen after Edward gets home from the hospital. Please!**

 **There was this really awesome post on Tumblr about the turtle on Ziio's necklace and it even gave an explanation on what the turtle meant as a symbol. Alas, I don't have my archieved posts anymore and Wikipedia wasn't much help so I went for generic. Though the World Turtle is true for Mohawk tradition, at least according to Wikipedia.**

 **Kirja is Finnish for book. Also, Lucy married Desmond, thus she is Miles now.**

 **My cat is so dead asleep his head just flops around. Hahah.**

 **Save an author; leave a review!**

 **I'll assume you** **hate** **this story if you don't review.**

 **-Nemo**


	11. One Good Turn

**Assassin's Creed (c) Ubisoft**

* * *

The cat had come out of nowhere. Edward knew that every driving instructor under the sun would tell their students to hit the damn animal and not swerve, but sometimes instinct reacts faster than instruction. Edward remembering shouting, "Fucking hell!" as he yanked the steering wheel sharply to the left, the car groaning in protest. The cat scampered to the other side of the street. Edward saw the tree suddenly too close for comfort and heard the sickening crunch of metal and the jarring sudden jerk of going 35 mph to 0 mph in half-a-heartbeat. He had whipped forward, bashing his head on the steering wheel, warm blood oozing down his temple; suddenly he was violently pushed back by the air bag deploying. He last saw billows of steam and a woman running towards him before blackness.

"Mr. Kenway? Mr. Kenway? Mr. Kenway can you hear me?" a doctor asked, shining a bright light into his eyes to check the responsiveness of his pupils. "I need an X-ray," the doctor said.

"Uh," Edward moaned, his head hurt like an elephant sat on it. "Where am I?"

"You're at Boston General's ER," the nurse said.

"My… my son… need to call my son," Edward mumbled, squeezing his eyes shut. The voices of the nurses and doctors shouting orders over him. He just wanted to call Haytham, make sure he's alright. _I'm sorry Haytham, we aren't gonna make it to Disneyland this year._

* * *

Haytham didn't register anything for several long moments, not until a hand was on his shoulder. He jerked, staring up into oddly familiar amber eyes. "Haytham?" Ziio asked, a seriously imploring look in her face. Haytham shook himself and realized he was sitting on the curb again.

"What happened? Did I pass out?" he asked.

"Not really, you just went really still and started to sway, I caught you before you could fall," Ziio said glancing over her shoulder to look at the two adults. Haytham recognized his Uncle Thatch but not the other woman he was talking to. "Is that man really your uncle?"

"No. He's my father's best friend, but I've always called him my uncle. In fact, I call all my father's friends uncle or aunt," Haytham said. "Who's that woman he's talking to?"

"My mom," Ziio said sternly.

"Oh." Haytham felt stupid for asking a question with such an obvious answer. "I hope my father is okay."

"I'm sure he's fine," Ziio said, and glanced over at the adults as they walked up to them.

"C'mon, Kaneihtí:io," Ziio's mother said, holding out her hand. Ziio scooped up her cookie container, waved bye to Haytham and grabbed her mother's hand. Haytham watched them walk to their car and eventually drive away.

"Let's go Haytham," Thatch said, "we're going to see your dad."

"He's okay right?" Haytham asked.

"I don't know, the nurse on the phone didn't say much. Your father tried to call you but you didn't pick up, so he called me," Thatch said, "or rather the nurse did."

"Oh." Haytham began to look through his phone, noting the most recent missed call was from a number he didn't recognized. The call must've came in during class and when he glanced at it after school he didn't recognize the number and thought nothing more of it. He climbed into passenger seat of Thatch's SUV and buckled up. He stared at the home screen of his phone. A picture of him and his father. He felt tears well up behind his eyes and eventually they rolled down his cheeks as he sucked in huge heavy sobs. Thatch didn't say anything as he silently drove to the hospital.

* * *

Edward turned his attention from the TV to the nurse as she pulled the curtain back. He caught a glimpse of the patient in the other room. It was a woman with her lover holding her hand. The curtain winked them away in a flash. "You have a visitor Mr. Kenway," the nurse said, smiling cheerily. Edward looked down at Haytham. His heart broke at the sight of his son. Haytham's eyes were red and puffy with tear tracks dry upon his cheeks. He looked dejected and he trembled, hands clasped together. "F-Father?" he whispered, almost as if he was unsure of his own voice.

"I'm alright Haytham," Edward said. Haytham sniffed. He ran to his father, climbing up onto the chair by his bedside and hugging him tightly. "I'm alright," Edward said as his son started to suck in great gulps of air, crying loudly. He pulled Haytham onto the bed with him, rubbing his back and pressing kisses against his forehead. "Shh, shh, I'm right here, not gonna go anywhere anytime soon, I promise."

"I'm sorry, Father, I'm so sorry!" Haytham mumbled, clutching his father's hospital gown as if it was an anchor. "I'm sorry."

"For what, sea urchin?" Edward asked, pushing Haytham away just enough so he could look into his boy's eyes. "Ya did nothin' wrong."

"But I… I ignored the call from the hospital and—"

"Hey," Edward said, pressing a finger to Haytham's lips, "it's alright. Ya got here. No need to worry."

"But…" Haytham began.

"If anyone should apologize it's me," Edward said, "the car's totaled. We'll need a new one. So, it doesn't look like we'll be going to Disneyland."

"I don't care about that, Father!" Haytham shouted, tears spilling from his eyes again. "I'm just glad… I'm just glad…" he choked, resting his forehead against Edward's shoulder. He forced out, "I'm not an orphan."

"Oh, Haytham," Edward muttered. "Look, I'm okay. Just got a bump on my head, the doctor says I'll be at home for a few days, just to make sure nothing adverse occurs, but I'll be right as rain in a flash."

"O-Okay," Haytham mumbled, rubbing his eyes.

"How are you holding up, Kenway?" Thatch asked, coming in. He took in Edward's appearance, Haytham snuggled up against his father's side, and the dried blood in Edward's hair. "You look like shit."

"I feel like shit," Edward laughed, only to groan. "Doc says I also cracked some ribs. Nothing too terrible. He says I'm lucky, could've been worse."

"You're one tenacious bastard, Kenway, I'll give you that," Thatch agreed. "They discharging you?"

"Tomorrow. Head injury. They want to keep me over night."

"What? No!" Haytham protested, sitting up. "They can't do that!"

"Haytham, it's just for one night. You can stay with your Aunt Mary and Aunt Anne. Uncle Thatch and I'll pick you up tomorrow after school."

"But…"

"And tomorrow's Friday, we'll go for ice cream after school," Edward said, lifting Haytham's head up with two fingers. "I promise."

"Alright," Haytham muttered.

"C'mon kid, let's get going. I'll take you to get something to eat then we'll swing by your place and pack a bag for you," Thatch said.

"Thanks Blackie," Edward muttered.

"Eh? What are friends for," Thatch said with a shrug as Haytham wiggled off of the bed. "Everything always works out in the end." Thatch took Haytham's hand and left the room. Edward watched his son and friend go, feeling worse than he did a few hours ago.

* * *

"Shay Patrick Cormac!" Hope screeched, marching up to the seven boys as they played marbles beneath the big oak tree. Shay flinched, trying to inch his way behind the tree but Hope grabbed him. "I knew you snuck away!"

"Jeez Hope, lemme go," Shay grumbled.

"No, you promised to play house with me and Liam today! Achilles even decided to join in."

"Ah man, not Achilles, he always ruins it," Shay grumbled.

"Tough," Hope replied, not letting go of her grip on Shay's wrist. "Oh, Haytham, Ziio's looking for you."

"Why?" Haytham asked.

"It's your turn Haytham," Thomas muttered.

"Dunno." Hope shrugged. "She told me to tell you if I found you."

"Can I play house during lunch recess?" Shay asked as Hope began to march him off towards where she was playing. The others heard Hope reply in the negative before they looked at Haytham.

"Are you going to go find her?" Charles asked. "You don't have to, since she's in our class."

"Charles," Haytham sighed. "I supposed I should."

"Is this about your dad getting in a wreck yesterday?" William asked. Haytham never considered that that could be the reason Ziio wanted to talk to him. She was with him when he received the news after all.

"Maybe," he stood, "William will you—"

"I'll do it for you, Haytham!" Charles said. Haytham stared at Charles for a moment before giving a curt nod.

"Okay," he said and headed off to the pine grove where Ziio liked to play. He could hear Thomas loudly singing _Haytham and Ziio sitting in a tree!_

Haytham ended up meeting Ziio half way. She looked annoyed and flustered, an oddity for her, considering she was always so confident. "You wanted to speak with me?" Haytham asked.

"Yeah," she mumbled, looking at her feet. She scuffed the pavement with the toe of her shoe. "I told my family about what happened," she said.

"Oh, alright," he said slowly, wondering what this was about. "You can tell them my father is alright, he just had a really bad bump on his head."

"That's good… right?" Ziio asked. Haytham nodded. She took a deep breath and met Haytham's gaze. "My grandmother and I will be staying with you for the weekend and my parents can help find a new car if you need it. My Uncle Jim runs a used car dealership." Haytham stared at her, his jaw hanging open. She boldly reached out and shut it for him. "Close it, otherwise bees will fly in and sting ya throat."

"Why?" Haytham asked.

"Because your mouth is open, duh!" she said, as if he was slow.

"No, I meant why is your family doing this for me? We owe you nothing and I doubt my father will… want your help."

"It doesn't matter, it's what _my_ people do," Ziio said, her tone broking no argument. "It's our way of giving back to the community. One good turn deserves another."

"Yes, but—"

"It's not an option!" Ziio snapped, her cheeks turning pink. "My mother is picking us up after school."

"I…" Haytham sighed, "alright fine. I'll see you after school then."

* * *

Haytham wasn't sure what to expect when he got home. It was strange though, not seeing his father's familiar old clunker sitting in the drive way looking like one good windstorm was all that it was needed to finish the poor decrepit thing off. Ziio's mother parked on the curb and Haytham scrambled out, muttering an awkward thankyou to Mrs. Clearwater. The door open to reveal his father, who was grinning in a nervous fashion. He briskly walked up to his son, Haytham noticing a silver haired woman that was slightly taller than Ziio's mother and wore turtle-shell jewelry and a beaded necklace. Haytham yelped in shocked when Edward grabbed him by the back of his shirt and marched him to the corner of the house.

"Haytham," Edward said in a low voice and Haytham was unsure if his father was upset or not. "Why are they here?"

"I… Ziio was there when Uncle Thatch picked me up. She heard about the accident and must've told her parents and grandmother. I'm sorry… it's just for the weekend," Haytham mumbled and looked up at his father. "Are… are you mad?"

"Mad?" Edward blinked. "Frustrated is a better word. Ziio's mother called shortly after I got home and then they showed up shortly after that. I tried to tell them I'm fine. They said they know a guy that'll get us a new car for real cheap."

"Yeah, Ziio's Uncle Jim," Haytham replied.

"Right well," Edward said. "Let's go and be good hosts then."

"Yeah," Haytham muttered. "Uh, Father… can…"

"Hm?" Edward turned back to his son.

"Yesterday… a social worker came to my school," Haytham muttered. "It's because of batty old Mrs. Müller… anyway, she asked if… if…"

"If what?" Edward asked, he closed the gap between him and Haytham, squatting down and putting his hands on his son's shoulders.

"She asked if you… touched me… in a bad way," Haytham kept his eyes glued to his feet. Edward sucked in a breath. "I told her you didn't and that you loved me! Mrs. Kirja the librarian made her leave."

"It's alright Haytham, you did nothing wrong," Edward said, his voice gruff. "I'll speak to the social worker people Monday and tell them again to ignore Mrs. Müller's calls when it's about this house."

"Okay, I just…"

"You did good lad, in telling me," Edward said and pecked Haytham's forehead. "Now, let's go help your little girlfriend and her relatives."

"Ziio _is not_ my girlfriend!" Haytham snapped, cheeks tinting. Edward just laughed, a knowing smile on his lips.

* * *

 **Thanks to MohawkWoman for Ziio and her grandmother and mother helping out Edward and Haytham. ^^**

 **Tomorrow Ziio and her grandmother help Edward and Haytham over the weekend! Expect a flustered Haytham, cute kiddie HayZiio moments, not so subtle matchmaking on Edward and Ziio's grandmother's parts.**

 **I imagine Hope and Ziio as good friends.**

 **Excellent song for Haytham and Ziio:** _ **The Promise**_ **by In This Moment. I think it fits them perfectly. :D**

 **Save an author; leave a review!**

 **To my followers that read and don't review, I know you** **hate** **this story.**

 **Nemo**


	12. Turtles and Eagles

**Assassin's Creed (c) Ubisoft**

 _ **italics = Mohawk being spoken**_

* * *

Haytham had peeked into the kitchen, seeing Ziio's mother and grandmother in there, decided that he didn't want to be caught up in the commotion and quickly scuttled back to the couch. _Deadliest Catch_ was playing on the TV and Haytham snuggled up close to his father. "Ya looked spooked, sea urchin," Edward said. Haytham frowned.

"Must you call me that? Especially with Ziio and her family being here," Haytham asked. Edward chuckled.

"Forgot, ya have an image to keep now that your little girlfriend is here."

"Ziio isn't my girlfriend, Father!" Haytham hissed, glancing over at the kitchen when he heard Ziio's voice shout something in Mohawk. "She's a girl that happens to my friend."

"Right, right," Edward mumbled, patting his son on the back. Haytham huffed, trying to ignore his father's comment. The couch jerked and Ziio's face suddenly appeared.

"Hey Haytham," she drawled. He eyed her.

"Yes?"

"Where are the pots and pans?" she asked. He opened his mouth about to tell her when she said, "I need you to show me. C'mon." She slipped off the back of the couch and trotted to the kitchen. Haytham glanced at his father, and Edward jerked his head in the direction of the kitchen. Haytham sighed, getting up and walking towards Ziio.

Haytham was surprised that his small kitchen could fit two grown women. Ziio's mother and grandmother talked loudly in Mohawk, while Ziio's mother washed chicken breasts. "Have you ever cooked before?" Ziio asked, pulling on a little apron. There were two stick figures: one with grey hair and the other with black hair and the words _Grandma's Best Helper_ stitched into it.

"I've made cereal," Haytham said, "Father does most of the cooking, unless Aunt Mary or Aunt Anne is watching me."

Ziio gave a big sigh. "Alright, rule one, you must wash your hands. Rule two, no sneezing on the food or picking your nose or being gross in general and if you must cough do it into your elbow; your hair's already pulled back so that's good. Three don't use the same spoon for taste-testing, get a new one or wash it. And four, Mama and Grandma are the only ones allowed to use the knives. Got it?"

"Uh… yeah," Haytham said.

"Good, go wash your hands then I need your help in getting the pots and pans out, and the cutting boards," Ziio said. Haytham gave himself a little shake before he went to the sink to wash his hands. Once he was done, he showed Ziio where they kept the pots and pans and cutting boards. Even getting out the heavy meat tenderizer. He showed Ziio where the glass bowls were kept and she pulled out eggs while she sent him to get flour. In no time at all they had three bowls set up, one filled with flour, another with beaten eggs and the last one was bread crumbs.

Haytham wasn't sure if he liked Ziio's mother and grandmother or not. Both women smiled at him kindly, though he felt that Ziio's mother gave him more of an appraising look as if he was a horse at market. He got the impression from Ziio's grandmother too, but she seemed to like him, since she'd wink at him from time to time. She had winked at him recently, and he was pondering what it meant when Ziio rapped her knuckles against his skull.

"Helloooo! Earth to Haytham!" she said.

"Ow, Ziio," he grumbled, rubbing his head. "What?"

"Were you even listening?" she asked.

"Your grandmother keeps winking at me," he stated offhandedly.

"That means she likes you," Ziio chirped. "Also, you haven't run out of the kitchen screaming yet, also a good think."

"Huh?" Haytham stared at her. "Why would I do that?"

"Never mind, now listen! I'm going to be putting the flour and eggs on the chicken, you are gonna bread them and set them on the cookie sheet so Mama can fry them, then we're going to mix the salad dressing and then mold the frybread," Ziio said.

"Uh… okay," Haytham muttered, pushing the sleeves of his shirt up. Ziio began to hum a song as she worked. Haytham watched her, admiring as she deftly covered the chicken in flour and quickly dipped them into the egg. He took the tongs she had picked up the egg-soaked piece of chicken and flipped it over. "Like this Ziio?" he asked, not wanting to redo his first piece of chicken.

"No! Put it back down and cover it with the bread crumbs and gently pat, then you flip it over and do it again," Ziio instructed. Haytham swallowed, sighed and did as he was told. It was a slow process, and Ziio had to intervene to catch them up on their quota. Haytham knew Ziio had a bossy and blunt personality and way of speaking, but the last time he seen her so frightening was when they first met and she was beating up Charles. He'd have to apologize to Charles on Monday for rightfully being afraid of Ziio, after cooking with her.

They had made the salad dressing, well, Ziio made the salad dressing and he just hung back and watch. His father poked his head in to see how everything was going, but Ziio's mother shooed him out of the kitchen. Edward gave his son a sympathetic look before ducking back into the living room. Haytham sighed, watching as Ziio's mother removed a towel from a cookie sheet with tennis ball sized bits of dough. "C'mon Haytham, I'll show you how to flatten the dough for frybread."

"Alright," he mumbled, feeling like something catastrophic would happen. He stood on the step stool besides Ziio's.

"So, this is the easy part," Ziio said, picking up two balls of dough and handing one to Ziio. "All you have to do is smash it into a super thin pancake like disc. Watch," Ziio said and began to pat the dough between her palms, working in a circle and in an easy rhythm. "See easy? Now just set it on the cookie sheet and Grandma will fry them."

"Right," Haytham grumbled and began to pat his dough. It looked easier than it actually was. He somehow managed to get flour in his hair on his face and his clothes, and still hadn't even made it halfway through his little lumps of dough. Clearly Ziio made these things every day or nearly, since she zipped through them quickly, flattening them out in seconds. Ziio finished her last ball of dough and looked at Haytham.

"You haven't even done half of them," Ziio pointed out. He felt his shoulders tense.

"I-I know, I'm working on it," he grumbled.

"Give me some," Ziio said and Haytham handed the rest over, with Ziio helping him they finished the rest quickly. Once they were finished, Ziio's mother told them to clean up and set the table, for it was nearly time to eat. Haytham didn't really feel like eating, he wanted to take a nap, and decided that he'd avoid having to cook when he's older.

* * *

Dinner was good, Haytham would have to admit. Even if father enjoyed it, then again Edward always did enjoy a good home-cooked meal. "This is really good," Edward muttered between bites, causing Ziio's mother and grandmother to beam.

"I helped too, Mr. Kenway, so did Haytham," Ziio chimed. "I even made the salad dressing."

"Haytham," Edward said, leveling his fork at his son, "you hold on to her. Not every day you find a woman that's good in the kitchen."

" _I agree. Kaneihtí:io, I like this boy. He's kind, respectful and not afraid to get his hands dirty,_ " Ziio's grandmother said.

"Grandma!" Ziio hissed, while her mother frowned.

"What did she say?" Haytham asked, poking his food. Ziio glanced at his plate before looking at him.

"She said you better eat your dinner otherwise you won't get dessert," Ziio said.

" _Kaneihtí:io, I didn't say that. Translate it properly_ ," Grandma muttered.

"Now what did she say?" Haytham asked.

"That she'll be very upset if you waste the food she prepared for you," Ziio grumbled. Ziio's grandmother tutted and shook her head, muttering to her daughter in a low voice. Haytham had a funny feeling that what Ziio told him.

* * *

They were sitting on the couch that night, watching a Disney movie. Ziio's and grandmother had gone to bed, though Haytham guessed Ziio's mother was one of those late night readers, since he could see a soft glow of a reading lamp coming from the crack between the door and the floor from the guest bedroom. Ziio had gotten the couch.

"I'm sorry you got the couch," Haytham muttered. Ziio shook her head, clutching her battered raccoon plushie.

"It's fine," Ziio said.

"What did your grandma say at dinner?" Haytham asked. Ziio flushed, looking down at her plushie.

"Nothing, don't worry about it. Do you have cookies?" she asked.

"I think so, but Father keeps them up in the really high cupboard," Haytham said. "It's above the fridge."

"C'mon," Ziio said, slipping off the couch. "Prince Eric is stupid in this part," she said, glancing at the TV. Haytham followed her gaze, before shrugging and following her into the kitchen. They both jumped when they heard a snort, turning to look in the direction of it.

"It's okay," Haytham said, "that's just Father."

"Hm," Ziio looked around the kitchen, "where is the… ah-ha!" she grinned when she found it. "Alright, squat down," she ordered.

"Why?"

"Together we can reach it, so squat down," she said.

"I don't think this is a good idea, what if you fall?" Haytham said. "Break your neck and… die." He gave her an imploring look.

"I'm not, now squat," she barked.

"I can wake up Father—"

"Squat, Haytham!" Ziio hissed. Haytham sighed, squatted and Ziio climbed onto his shoulders, grabbing the cabinet in front of her. "Okay, now grab my ankles and slowly stand up," Ziio said. Haytham bit his lip and slowly stood up, holding onto Ziio's ankles tightly. He heard Ziio cackle as she pulled open the cupboard. "Oreos! Yes! Mama never buys Oreos," Ziio said and pulled the package of Oreos out and closed the cupboard. "Okay, now slowly squat down."

Haytham sighed, and did as he was told. Ziio climbed off of him, and waved the bag in front of him. "See, no problem. C'mon," she said and headed back to the couch. "Let's watch Ursula get her butt kicked," Ziio said.

"You'll share those right, Ziio?" Haytham asked. He'd be damned if he let Ziio eat all those cookies.

"Of course, you get part of the plunder," she giggled, as they resumed their seats on the couch. Haytham sighed, but accepted the cookie from her.

"Thanks," he mumbled.

"My grandma likes you," Ziio mumbled. Haytham nodded, neither of them watching the movie. "Really likes you."

"Uh…thanks, I guess," Haytham mumbled, turning off the TV when the credits started rolling. Ziio yawned and set the rest of the cookies on the table.

It was the sunlight that woke him. Haytham looked around for a bit before realizing that he was on the couch. He stared at Ziio as she snuggled closer to her and he smiled, resting his head back down on the cushions. Ziio's eyes fluttered opened and she smiled at him. He inched closer and their noses touched. The two kids froze, staring at each other before pulling a part, a blush coloring their cheeks. Haytham watched as Ziio rolled over. "It's too early, nobody else is up," she muttered.

"Yeah… right," Haytham agreed, though he was hyper-aware that she was by his side and unaware that his father had been watching the entire thing and took a picture.

* * *

 **And it's over. Yay.**

 **On to the next adventure! Jenny, squirt guns, the battle for the tree house, bullies, Edward building a treehouse and lots of other stuff.**

 **Special thanks to MohawkWoman for beta duties. ^^ And telling me how frybread is made.**

 **Save an author; leave a review.**

 **-Nemo**


	13. A Man's Drink

**Assassin's Creed (c) Ubisoft**

* * *

The house felt strangely empty Sunday night after Ziio and her family left. Haytham had gotten use to Ziio, her mother and grandmother, shouting loudly in Mohawk to one another. Ziio's "translations" of whatever her grandmother said and her grandmother always chiding her about it. He still couldn't believe Ziio's grandmother could speak English. He'll to ask Ziio about that tomorrow during recess… or maybe not. He had a funny feeling she'd deny everything about this weekend if he questioned her.

The couch sagged and Haytham looked at up at his father sat down, with two mugs in his hands. "Here," Edward said, before putting his feet up on the table and turning on the TV. It was one of those reality TV shows about fishermen that his father liked to watch. Haytham looked at the contents of his mug, a smile spreading across his lips.

"What's the occasion?" Haytham asked, blowing gently on his hot chocolate. "You put marshmallows in it."

"No reason," Edward said with a shrug. "I've could've made it an extra special batch, but we need to wait a bit longer until then." Edward gave his son and wink, and Haytham wondered what his father meant about making hot chocolate extra special. The inclusion of marshmallows already made it special, everyone knew that. Haytham took a sip of the hot chocolate, sighing in contentment as he leaned up against his father. "You should thank your friend for all she's done for us this weekend."

"I will," Haytham said.

"Maybe give her a nice card," Edward said. Haytham flushed. "I'm serious son, a woman like that is precious and rare."

"Father, I'm seven," Haytham sighed.

"Seven," Edward mumbled, mulling the number about in his brain. "Are you really seven?"

"Yeah," Haytham said, he sipped his coco. "Why?"

"I can't believe it's been six years," Edward muttered, looking at his coco. "There's so much I wanted to tell her."

"Tell who?" Haytham asked, though he already had a good idea who it was.

"Your mother."

"Mother?" Haytham whispered, his father never spoke about his mother. It was a taboo subject even his aunts and uncles avoided. Haytham never understood why, though and he longed to learn more about the mother he didn't even remember. The only pictures of her in the house were all located in his father's bedroom, in a box beneath the bed, gathering dust. Whatever the emotional ties his parents shared must've been too painful for his father to remember and thus hid all reminders. "Did… Father?"

"Hm?"

"How did Mother die?" Haytham looked at the floating melting marshmallows in his coco. "Was it because of me? Did I cause Mother to die? Is that why you don't talk about her?"

"What? No, no, no! Your mother didn't die like that," Edward said, shifting to look at his son. "No, she died in a freak accident… accident isn't really want I'd call it, but it was freak and unexpected."

"Oh, I just thought that sometimes… maybe…" Haytham couldn't say it. If he said it, it would make it real and then there'll always be that wriggling doubt in his heart.

"I don't hate you," Edward said, pressing a kiss to his son's forehead. "Haytham, I love you more than anything in the world. Without you… well, lots of things would've been different." Edward muttered and took a sip from his coco. _I would've put the bottle to my temple and pulled the trigger long ago if it weren't for you Haytham._

"I wish you'd talk about Mother more," Haytham whispered. Edward looked at his son, surprise clearly written on his face.

"Really?" he asked.

"Yeah," Haytham breathed, sipping his coco. "I don't know anything about my mother and… sometimes I miss her, but it's like missing a ghost. It's not really there. I know she's gone but… maybe she's watching over us."

"Haytham…"

"Do you think she is? Do you think she's happy with how we're doing? Do you think she smiles when I get a hundred on my spelling tests? Sometimes when I'm scared, I feel a presence… like an invisible blanket that wraps me up and holds me tightly. Do you think that's Mother? Do you think she's still with us somehow?"

"Of course I do," Edward whispered, not trusting himself to speak. He rubbed at his eyes, before looking at Haytham. It baffled him that he never realized that Haytham lost a mother that day too. Tessa was more than just a wife; she was a mother. A young mother, but a mother all the same. Her son had a right to know about her. "Your mother's name was Tessa, and you have her eyes and hair, and her smile." Edward said, pulling Haytham close. "She loved to smile and bake, she made so many brownies and cookies when she was pregnant with you."

"Really?" Haytham asked, slowly building a mental image of his mother.

"Yes. She loved to laugh and hated surprised, but I surprised her anyway. She'd take you to the park on sunny days, put whip cream on your nose and color with you. She'd read you bed time stories until you fell asleep."

"What else?" Haytham asked, smiling though he felt tears prick his eyes.

"Well, I remember this one time, you were around nine months old and got really sick, we rushed you to the hospital. Your mother was in a state and she could hardly sit still and didn't sleep for an entire day until the doctor told her you'd be just fine. She then collapsed into my arms crying and thanking god you were going to be okay," Edward sighed, "you were entire world. Her precious little boy, her sweet angel. She would've given up her life if it meant you'd be safe."

"I miss her," Haytham whispered. "I wish I could remember her."

"She always sang you a lullaby, even if you were dead asleep, she'd sing it to you. Said it kept the boogie man away," Edward said.

"Oh?" Haytham asked, and took a swallow of his coco. It had cooled immensely since his father started talking about his mother.

" _You are my Sunshine_ ," Edward said. Haytham's eyes widened.

"I remember… well, not really, but I always liked the melody," Haytham whispered.

"You know, I think I may have," Edward said, digging out his phone, "a video of her holding you." He looked through his phone, tapping the code to unlock the video sets of the time before Tessa's death. "Yep, here, watch this," Edward said, handing his son the phone. Haytham set his mug on the table and cradled his father's phone in his small hands. He touched the play button.

The image came to life, his mother with her long brown hair in a braid and wearing a black turtleneck, holding him safely in her arms. _"Ted, turn that off, you'll wake him,"_ Tessa chided, Haytham felt his throat catch. He never heard his mother's voice before.

 _"He's asleep Tessa. Dead to the world, it's not going to bother him,"_ Edward replied. Tessa glared at him before rolling her eyes and kissing her baby son and began to hum.

 _"You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happy when skies grey. You'll never know dear, how much I love you. So please, don't take my sunshine away._ " Tessa sang softly, giving her son another kiss on the forehead. _"Mommy loves you, Haytham."_

* * *

When Haytham got home from school the next day, he noticed the atmosphere of the house had changed. He never noticed it before, but there must've been a black gloom about the place since his mother died, now there was a new vibrancy about everything, as if spring had finally come after a harsh and cold winter.

He opened the door, surprised to see the box filled with pictures of his mother out in the living room and his father hanging up the pictures that had once been hidden away. Edward smiled. "Hey, sea urchin," Edward said, "how was school?"

"It was good," Haytham said, glancing quickly at his father, "it was good." He touched the glass of his picture. It was his parents and him, barely a few days old, wrapped in a blue blanket. Haytham wiped the tears away, yet he smiled for his mother was smiling so broadly in the picture that he couldn't help but feel happy. "I'm home Mother," he whispered, "school was okay."

* * *

 **I saw an image of Edward and Haytham sharing a cup of coco. It was actually grown Haytham staring into a tea cup thinking back on his childhood. And this happened. Enjoy. Cry, I know you'll cry. I cried too.**

 **Tomorrow we'll get back to the regular schedule humor.**

 **Save an author; leave a review.**

 **-Nemo**


	14. The Long Lost Half-Sister

**Assassin's Creed (c) Ubisoft**

* * *

"…Of course I want to see her! My issue here, Caroline is—What! No I'm not! Why would you assume that? You know what, fuck you too!" Edward sighed as he leaned against the wall, running a hand through his hair. Haytham cleared his throat, trying to get his father's attention. "I told you once, I told you a hundred fucking times Caroline. I _was on_ deployment! …That means I couldn't fucking call you every fucking minute you had a goddamn fucking problem! Of course I wanted to be there when she was born but… I'm not making fucking excuses!"

"Uhm… Father," Haytham said, feeling awkward about interrupting his father. He wondered who Caroline was.

"You kept her away from me! You were gone after I got back from work! You up-and-left taking our daughter… _she is still my goddamn fucking kid, Caroline!_ Of course I never bothered to pay child support because I knew you'd just use that in some sick twisted scheme of yours! It broke my heart that I couldn't come and visit her… oh sure, now you say that! I knew if I had come to visit you'd've thrown a bitch fit like you always do."

"Father, I'm going out to play… I'll be at the Green Dragon… the treehouse in the old abandon lot by William's house," Haytham said, but Edward didn't hear him.

"You know what, you are doing it again," Edward said rubbing his forehead. "You are making it about us, when it's really about her. She can come, if she really wants to move to Boston I don't mind letting her stay here for however long it takes her to get on her feet, I have a spare bedroom. I'll tell Haytham then… no not Nathan, _Haytham_ … my son. Yes, I got married again after our divorce. What did you think I'd do? Become a hermit and swear off women? Caroline, I don't want to talk about it. Right, bye." Edward said, hanging up. "Fucking cun—" he noticed Haytham standing there, "nundrum."

"Who was that? And what do you have to tell me?" Haytham asked, his curiosity piqued.

"Nobody you need to concern yourself with, and we're having someone come stay with us for a bit," Edward said. He wasn't sure how he'd tell Haytham this person is his half-sister. He'll figure it out later. "What's up?"

"I'm going out to play with my friends. We'll be at the Green Dragon, you know the treehouse in that old lot by William's house," Haytham said.

"Alright, just put some sunscreen on," Edward said, heading to the bathroom for the sunblock.

"Do I have to?"

"Do you want to come back lobster red?" Edward asked.

"Yes," Haytham said, grinning. Edward chuckled as he came back with the sunscreen in his hand.

"No ya don't, sea urchin. Now hold still." Edward squirted some of the thick white goo onto his fingers.

"Father, must you do this!" Haytham whined, squirming away from Edward's hand as he tried to apply the sunscreen.

"Do you want skin cancer? Hold still, Haytham. Stop squirmin' like an eel," Edward growled. Haytham ducked, saw his escape route and bolted. "Haytham!" Edward shouted, trying to grab his son, Haytham giggled, free from his father. "Haytham Kenway, get back here!"

"No!"

"I mean it, Haytham! You can't go until you get this stuff on ya," Edward said, getting to his feet and walking up to his son.

"Please!" the boy gave his father his most innocent smile.

"No, now come here," Edward said. Haytham shook his head. "One…"

"Fine," Haytham sighed, and walked up to his father.

"You'll thank me in the future," Edward said, smearing the sunblock all over Haytham's face. He worked it into the crevices between his nose. "I got sunburned on the tops of my ears on deployment." Edward said, smearing sunscreen onto Haytham's ears. "Arms up," Edward said. Haytham sighed and held up his hands. "That's a good lad." Edward smeared the sunblock on Haytham's arms. "There, all done. Oh, wait, back of the neck."

"Father!" Haytham whined, squirming, but he suffered it. "Are you done?"

"Hmm," Edward turned Haytham around looking him over. "Nope, missed a spot." He tapped Haytham on the nose, and the boy giggled. "Alright, go have fun. Remember be back before dark."

"I will," Haytham said, slipping his sandals on. "Bye!" he opened the door and ran outside, heading down the street.

* * *

"What's that?" Thomas asked as Shay laid out a _Risk_ board.

"It's a _Risk_ board, for the game _Risk_ ," Shay said, laying it out flat on the floor on the tree house. "It's to help us plot out how exactly to take over the world."

"Oh," Thomas muttered.

"Good thinking Shay," Haytham said, "that's the type of thinking we need in our group." Haytham smiled at Shay. Shay flushed, looking at the board.

"I just thought it'll be easier to discuss our future plans," Shay muttered, "if we could actually see the world."

"I can bring toy soldiers!" Charles said, "plus, I think we—"

"What are we gonna do when we become rulers of the world?" Thomas asked, opening a can of root beer. "I mean… it's kinda important to know what we want out of it, right?"

"Thomas, shut up!" Charles snapped.

"Stop it both of you. I agree with Thomas, we need to decide what our goals are," Haytham said, looking at each of his friends. "William, you go first."

"Uhm…. Well, I want to be able to understand every language, ever!" William said, looking at the others.

"When I'm ruler," Thomas said, "everyone will eat candy and root beer."

"Isn't that bad for your health? Not to mention your teeth?" Charles asked. Thomas glared at him.

"Well, I want to be ruler of the world… supreme ruler of the world," Charles said. "Ben? John, what about you two?"

"No school," Ben said.

"No homework," John added.

"Isn't that the same thing?" Thomas asked.

"You can have homework if you're homeschooled," John pointed out.

"Shay, it's your turn," William said, looking at Shay. The boy huffed and looked at the ceiling as he pondered what he wanted when he ruled the world.

"World peace. Then nobody that doesn't have to die won't die," Shay said. "Like my parents… so, Haytham. What's your plans?" Shay asked. Haytham swallowed a gulp of root beer, grumbling as the carbonation burned his nose.

"Uhm… well, uuh…" Haytham sighed, "I want to be able to bring back the dead. Especially my mother."

The treehouse fell silent, and Haytham could feel the eyes of his friends on him. He stared at his hands, thinking they were more interesting than the looks his friends were probably giving him. He jerked when he felt Shay's arms around him. "Shay?"

"I understand," Shay muttered.

"I didn't… I didn't know your mom was dead," Charles whispered, feeling guilty about wishing his own mother was dead.

"Here," Thomas muttered, offering Haytham his chocolate bar. Haytham took it with a soft thank you. He rubbed his face, forcing himself not to cry.

"Oi! Templar scum!" a voice shouted from outside. The seven boys turned and climbed to railing to look at the ground below. Standing there, were the Assassins. "Give us back Shay and hand over that tree house!" Ethan shouted.

"No!" Haytham shouted back.

"C'mon Shay, those guys are jerks! Achilles said he was sorry," Liam called, looking up at his friend. "Please?"

"No! Tell Achilles he's a mean old stupid-head and I don't want to play with him ever again!" Shay shouted.

"And we aren't going to give you our tree house, either!" Haytham shouted. "This tree house is ours!"

"Alright," Ethan said, "you leave us no choice." He and the other Assassin boys heft their squirt guns, took aim and fired. Haytham and his friends screamed, trying to find cover from the assault of water while the boys below laughed.

"Haytham, what are we gonna do?" Charles asked, taking cover behind a desk. Haytham sighed, not knowing what to do. He didn't get a chance to think for the Assassin boys circled the house and began to fire their water guns at them from all directions.

"Uh… the root beer! Shake it up and throw it!" Haytham shouted, diving for the cooler.

"What no!" Thomas pulled the cooler towards him. "Haytham are you mad? This is Mug's Root Beer!"

"Do you want those Assassins to get our tree house?" Haytham hissed, eyes narrowing. Thomas gulped, flinching when a stream of water came their way.

"No," he mumbled, handing over the cooler. Haytham flipped the top open and handed the remaining cans of root beer to the others.

"Shake them up really good and lightly break the seal and throw them!" Haytham said shaking his can of root beer, he broke the seal, and he got a beige from to ooze out. He tossed it out the tree house. He heard yelps of surprise as root beer frizzed everyone. The others threw their own root beer bombs, but they soon ran out, since Hickey had drank most of them.

"Now what do we do Haytham?" Charles asked, looking at his friend. Haytham sighed, trying to see if they had anything to use as a weapon. They didn't.

"We make a run for it. We give up the tree house, but it's only for a bit. Then we come back with more squirt guns and take back our treehouse!" Haytham said. "It's the only way… if we want to keep Shay." He looked at his friends and they reluctantly nodded. Haytham yanked open the trap door, he went first, leading the way like a good leader. He was already soaked so the constant assault of water wasn't a problem. He made it down and was about to run for it when Ethan, with a big stupid grin on his face, tossed a water balloon. It connected with Haytham's face and exploded. It wasn't filled with water, no, it was filled with cornstarch slime.

"Get 'em!" Ethan shouted and the Assassin boys started to pelt the fleeing Templar boys with their slime balloons.

* * *

Haytham trudged back home miserable. His clothes were soaked and covered in cornstarch slime, he even got some in his hair. When the Assassin boys ran out of balloons they started throwing mud. He got that in his hair too. He noticed there was a strange car parked by the curb near their house. He didn't recognize it but noticed there was a New York state license plate. He briefly wondered who his father knew that lived in New York.

He glanced at his father's car. Ziio's Uncle Jim found them a good car that was in excellent repair. He still missed the old clunker his father use to drive but this one would do. Haytham sighed, headed to the front door. He took his shoes off and opened the door. "Father, I'm…" he stopped when he saw his father sitting at the table with a young woman. There was an uncanny resemblance between his father and this woman, they both had blond hair and blue eyes and the Kenway nose. He walked closer, tense. "Father?"

"Oh, Haytham! You're home," Edward said, and awkwardly cleared his throat. "Uh, son… this… this is my daughter."

"Daughter?" Haytham asked, deadpan. He arched one brow to stare that the woman.

"Yeah… from my first marriage… Haytham," Edward said and ran his hand through his hair. "Haytham," he said again, "this is your half-sister, Jennifer Scott."

* * *

 **And what will happen next?**

 **Oh gods this chapter soo much longer than what it should have to get up!**

 **Save an author; leave a review!**

 **-Nemo**


	15. A Lonely Soul

**Assassin's Creed (c) Ubisoft**

* * *

Haytham stared at the woman then his father then back at the woman then back at his father. "What?" he asked, wondering how this day could get worse. "Father, what are you talking about?"

"Haytham, why don't…" Edward trailed off upon noticing the state of his son's clothes. "Haytham, what happened?"

"The Assassins stole our treehouse!" Haytham seethed, folding his arms over his chest. "Jerks."

"There are assassins here?" Jenny asked. Edward shook his head.

"Nah, it's just a game Haytham and his friends play. His friends are the Knights Templar and this rival group of boys are the Assassin Brotherhood,"' Edward explained. "It's all just harmless fun."

"It's serious Father! One day we're gonna take over the world!" Haytham said. "And who is she again?"

"Haytham, Jenny is the person I told you that'll be staying with us for a bit," Edward explained. "She's your half-sister. Come here and say hi."

Haytham didn't say anything, just glanced at his father before slowly walking up to his father, he grabbed his shirt and stared coolly at his half-sister. "Hi. I'm Haytham."

"Hi, Nathan," Jenny said with a nervous little smile, glancing at Edward and then around the house. She swallowed, tucking some hair behind her ear.

"It's Haytham," Haytham said tightly, pressing himself closer to his father.

"Son, why don't you go et cleaned up, I'll order a pizza and we can all get to know each other better over pizza, how does that sound?"

"Why not have her go get it?" Haytham asked, looking up at his father. "I mean…"

"I can," Jenny said, "if… if it's not too much trouble. I don't want to feel like I'm imposing or anything…"

"Nonsense," Edward scoffed. "I'll just call, they deliver."

 _Well you are. Go away, you weirdo_ , Haytham thought but didn't say anything, just pressed himself closer to Edward.

Edward looked down at his son. "You never explained what happened to your clothes."

"Yes, I did!" Haytham sighed, rolling his eyes. "The Assassins stole our tree house! They used water guns, mud and slime balloons! Pay attention, Father!"

"Haytham… how old are you?" Jenny asked. Haytham spared his half-sister telling his father the tale of what happened.

"Haytham, don't be rude," Edward chided, interrupting his son. "Answer her question."

"Seven," he mumbled, not meeting his sister's eyes. "So as I was saying about what happened—"

"That's cool, I'm nineteen," Jenny said. "I want to be a fashion designer. I plan to attend the University of the Arts Central Saint Martins. It's a top notch design school." Haytham simply stared at her, as if she was an alien from another planet. "It's in London, Haytham."

"Oh."

"Haytham, why don't you go clean up and I'll call the pizza place," Edward said.

"But I want to stay with you?" Haytham protested, though he shot his sister a furious glare quickly. "Please?"

"Haytham, you're covered in mud and slime, go change and wash the mud out of your hair, Jenny isn't gonna eat me."

"Yeah Haytham, he's my father too," Jenny said, "I'd like to get to know him."

"He's _mine_ ," Haytham hissed. Jenny stared at her little brother in unmasked surprised. "You can help me get dressed!"

"Haytham, you're seven, you don't need my help," Edward sighed. "Go on, it's not going to kill ya."

"Yes it will," Haytham protested. Edward sighed, rolling his eyes.

"Go on Haytham," Edward said.

"Fine," Haytham said, heading to his room, hanging his head. He slipped in and stared at his father and half-sister, watching them for several long moments. Jenny said something that made Edward laughed and Haytham felt hot and angry. It took him only a moment to realize he was jealous. Softly he closed the door.

* * *

Haytham sat beneath the tree in the neighbourhood park. He was stripping a twig of its branches and only half-listened to his friends' chatter. "Hey, Haytham do you have any ideas on to get our tree house back?" Shay asked. Haytham looked up, then back at the twig he was mutilating.

"No," he growled, hunching his shoulders up. Shay looked at him then at the others.

"Is something wrong Haytham?" Charles asked, scooting closer to Haytham. "You know, we're your friends so you can tell us."

"Nothing's wrong," Haytham insisted, sitting up and setting the twig aside. "I just… haven't given it much thought." He wiped his brow. "Alright, we need to get our tree house back."

"Yeah, but how?" Thomas asked. Haytham rubbed his chin looking up at the sky.

"We need to catch them off guard," Haytham said, looking at his friends. "Just like they did us. We also need to have a lot of water guns with us. Like maybe we can get some super soakers and a garden hose or two."

"My mom can buy some super soakers," William said.

"The hard part will be catching them off guard," Shay pointed out. Haytham smirked.

"No it won't," Haytham said, looking at Shay. "You're gonna go back and apologize."

"What? No!" Shay shouted. "I'll never apologize to those jerks! They pushed Charles in the mud that one time and Achilles just stood by while Ethan bullied those kindergarteners!"

Haytham grabbed Shay by his shoulders and shook him. "You're the only one that can do it, Shay! They trust you! Especially if you get Hope to back you up! Besides you won't _really_ be joining them," Haytham said, "you'll just be acting like it. You'll come to my house later and tell me everything! Then we'll know when they are off-guard!"

Shay stared Haytham, saw the conviction in his eyes. "I don't know Haytham…"

"Shay, you're the only one that can do this!" Haytham said. Shay took a deep breath before nodding.

"Okay," Shay said, "I'll do it."

"Excellent! Now, all you need to do is go to the Green Dragon and beg the Assassins to take you back!" Haytham said, a little smile on his face.

"That's all well and good Haytham, but what if…" Shay stopped when he noticed someone approaching them.

"Haytham!" a woman's voice called. Haytham turned and cringed at the sight. The other boys stared at her too.

"Who's the pretty girl?" Thomas asked.

"Can you not be gross for once?" Charles snipped. Thomas stuck his tongue out at Charles once the other boy's back was turned.

"Haytham, do you know her?" Shay asked as the girl came up to them.

"Haytham, what's the matter? Dad said he's going to take us to the movies. Ádewalé gave him the rest of the day off, isn't that cool?" Jenny asked. Haytham made a face. "Haytham aren't you going to introduce me to your friends?"

"No," Haytham said, they were his friends. She was already trying to take his father, Haytham didn't want her taking his friends too.

"Oh, well alright," Jenny said, frowning a little. "C'mon let's go. Dad's in the car waiting for us."

"What if I don't want to go?" Haytham asked. He wanted to go to the movies, just not with Jenny tagging along.

"Who's going to watch you?"

"I'm playing with my friends, I can stay at one of their houses until the movie is over," Haytham explained.

"This is supposed to be a family thing, Haytham. C'mon, it'll be fun," Jenny explained. Haytham looked at his friends then back at his half-sister.

"Go on Haytham, we're pretty much done planning for the day," Shay said. Haytham huffed, got to his feet and followed his sister to the car.

* * *

It went on like this for several weeks. Haytham did everything he could to make sure Edward's attention remained fixated on him. When Edward left Jenny in charge of babysitting, Haytham would lock himself in his room, never coming out until morning. In the meantime, he would play with his friends, working out a plan to take back their tree house. Shay's intelligence gathering was proving a bountiful pay off.

It was after the Fourth of July, evening and Haytham was sitting on the front step with a cherry popsicle in his hand, Shay was beside him, eating a grape flavored one. "I think we'll be able to launch an attack soon," Haytham said. "It sounds like in a few days we'll be able to take back the tree house."

"You think? I hope Liam won't be too mad at me afterward," Shay muttered.

"So… is Liam really your brother?" Haytham asked. He had always wondered that, but never bothered to ask Shay or Liam.

"No, he's my best friend… my parents died when I was a toddler, I was put into the foster care system. Liam's family was my foster family," Shay said, "I've lived with them ever since."

"Oh," Haytham muttered, feeling awkward. "I… I didn't know."

"Nobody does. They put Liam and I in different classes," Shay said. "So, who is she?"

"Who?"

"That girl that's always coming to get you," Shay said. "The blond one."

"Oh her," Haytham said with a pout, sucking on the popsicle. "Can you keep a secret?"

"Sure, I won't tell," Shay said.

"She's my half-sister," Haytham muttered. "Her name is Jenny." He looked up at the sky. "I hate her."

"Isn't that a little harsh?" Shay asked, biting off the tip of his popsicle. "I mean… she's your sister—"

"Half-sister!"

"Same dad, different moms. My point is Haytham," Shay said, pointing his popsicle at Haytham, "I think you should be nice to her."

"No way!" Haytham snapped. "She's yucky! And I think she's really here to take my father away! No matter how hard I try, he pays more attention to her than me!"

"Did you tell him?" Shay asked.

"I tried…"

"And?"

"He doesn't care! He tells me not to worry and to get along with Jenny, but I don't wanna! I don't like being a little brother! I want things to go back to the way they were!" Haytham shouted, folding his arms and putting them on top of his knees. "She's a stupid butt-face."

Shay snickered. "I'm sure she's not that bad." Haytham shot his friend a look. "Really! Maybe if you just gave her a chance you'll—"

"No! No! No! Shay, who's side are you on? Her's or mine?" Haytham asked, he bit into his popsicle, the cold of the frozen treat numbing his teeth, which swiftly lead to a brain freeze. "Aaah! Brain freeze! Brain freeze!" he moaned pressing his hands to his head and stomping his feet in place. Shay snickered, and it earned him an elbow in the ribs once Haytham had recovered.

"I'm on your side Haytham," Shay said, "I'm just saying that family is important. She's always gonna be your sister."

"But…"

"No buts! Trust me on this," Shay said, "I'd give anything to have my parents back… or to find out I had a long lost sibling…"

"Shay…" Haytham whispered.

"You know what it's like not to have a mom. At least you still have your dad and now you have a sister! That's a good thing," Shay said. Haytham didn't say anything, licking his popsicle in silence. Shay finished his before Haytham and stood up. "Well, I better get back home before my folks worry about me. See ya tomorrow Haytham," Shay said, waving a little bit.

"Bye," Haytham said, waving back at his friend. He watched Shay walk off before entering the house. He frowned when he saw Jenny, holding two plates of sandwiches.

"Hey, I was just about to get you and your friend," she said.

"Shay went home," Haytham muttered, not meeting Jenny's eyes. "What do you want?"

Jenny sighed. "Dad wont' be back late."

"I know."

"So, I'm in charge and I made us roast beef sandwiches for dinner. I was thinking we can watch TV together until it's your bed time," Jenny said.

"No thanks, I'm not hungry," Haytham lied, heading to his room.

"C'mon, you gotta eat," Jenny said. "Everyone says I'm really good at sandwiches."

"Can you stop," Haytham said, turning to face his sister. He had enough of this girl trying to be nice to him.

"Stop what? I'm just trying to be nice."

"Exactly! Stop it. I don't like you and I don't want you. Go away. Go back to where you came from!" Haytham seethed. "You butted in where you shouldn't've butted in!"

"Look Nathan—"

"It's _Haytham!_ Hay-tham! It's not that hard!"

"Whatever," Jenny said dismissively as she set the sandwiches onto the table and walked up to Haytham. "He's my father too, and I have a right to get to know him and spend time with him."

"He loves me more than you! He always had! He never even once talked about you!" Haytham spat. "He loves my mother more than your mother too! So, why don't you just go away! We don't want you here!"

"Listen here you little termite!" Jenny seethed, grabbing Haytham. "I'm not leaving! I'm here to stay and he's my father just as much as he is yours! Stop thinking your such a special snowflake because you're not!"

"Let me go, you're hurting me!" Haytham cried, tugging at his arm. Jenny huffed, letting him go. "I hate you."

"Yeah, well the feeling is mutual," she snipped. Haytham sniffed, tearing up, his lower lip jutting out. He tore off towards his room and slammed the door. He heard Jenny scream in frustration-induced anger before the TV went on. Haytham knew he couldn't stay here. Not with her here. He suffered silently for weeks now and he just couldn't take it. Screw what Shay said about being nice to Jenny. Jenny was a big mean butt-face and he didn't like her.

He grabbed his backpack and stuffed his pajamas, some clothes, his stuffed eagle and a picture of him and his father into it. He slung the pouch Ziio gave him over his shoulder feeling his journal and pen safely within. He opened a drawer and grabbed some left over Easter candy and shoved that into the backpack too. Then he opened his window and popped out the screen the way his father taught him if there was ever a fire in the house. He glanced at his phone and almost took it but decided to leave it. He then slipped out of the window and ran off into the gathering night.

* * *

 **AAAAH!**

 **Haytham runs away!**

 **Thanks again to MohawkWoman and my koala bear for beta duties and general support. I hope you enjoy this chapters guys!**

 **Save an author; leave a review!**

 **Nemo**


	16. Thicker Than

**Assassin's Creed (c) Ubisoft**

* * *

Night had a way of making things look scarier, especially the dark alleys between the houses. Being upset also increased the fright factor and Haytham wished he brought a flashlight with him, but he didn't have one in his room and he wasn't about to go sneaking through the house looking for one with Jenny there. He shifted his backpack higher up on his shoulders and sniffed, rubbing his nose. The July night was warm, fireflies flashed neon yellow-green every few heartbeats, he could hear the chirp of crickets, the drone of cicadas and the croaking of frogs. Every now and then there was a car that drove by lazily. Haytham hugged the shadows, not wanting anyone to recognize him. He knew the way to the Green Dragon.

He reached it, the trip feeling longer than the normal ten minutes. He glanced up at the street lights, casting an orange glow on the side walk. William's house was the next one over from the lot on the right side, he didn't know who lived in the houses adjacent to the lot. It didn't matter, they wouldn't realize a little boy had climbed up into the treehouse anyway. Haytham watched as a car drove by, before sprinting towards the ladder. He grabbed it, heart thumping against his chest. He heard a noise, a cat yowling in fright. He looked around, seeing nobody but he scrambled up anyway, pushing against the trap door. He creaked open and he climbed in, closing it with a shut and putting the cooler they always kept in the tree house on top of the door. He glanced around.

The Assassins in their unjust occupation of the tree house, didn't seem to have really done anything to it. Many of the times Haytham and his friends had brought to add to the tree house had remain. The only thing was that their cross was taken down and replaced with the stupid upside down V symbol the Assassins seem to favor. Haytham snorted and took it down, pinning the red Templar cross back up. He sat down, and opened his pack. He pulled out his jacket and laid it out on the floor of the tree house, he removed his stuffed eagle and his picture before zipping his backpack up. He took his pouch off, and set it beside the picture before hunkering down, using his backpack as a make-shift pillow.

"It's just us now Eagle," Haytham muttered, snuggling up to his eagle. "We'll be okay." He hoped. He needed to figure out where to go. He frowned, then it hit him suddenly. He'll go to New York, which was where Jenny came from. He'll find her mother and ask her mother to take Jenny back. Then Haytham can have his old life back and Jenny will never bother them again. "I know what I gotta do now," Haytham muttered, shifting about trying to get comfortable. "I hope Father will understand."

* * *

"Ugh, I know Britney! He's such an annoying little shit. _It's_ Haytham _!_ Hay-tham _! It's not that hard!_ Well it fucking is! He thinks he's such a special snowflake!" Jenny said, into the phone as she sat on the couch eating popcorn and watching a reality show on TV. "My dad's okay. Weird, but okay. He calls me his little sea star," Jenny snorted with an eye roll, "I know. Lame-o! Ha! That'll be nice. My stupid little brother runs away and never comes back. Won't have to worry about him anymore," Jenny said, "takes care of that fucking problem."

She grinned as Britney began to yammer about something happening in New York, she glanced at her watch. "Hey, Brit, I need to let ya go, my dad should be coming home soon, it's almost two-thirty. Yeah, of course I'll call tomorrow… or later, heheh, yeah, we talked the night away, ugh. I wish I had just stayed in New York, but whatevs! I'm here now. Yeah, bye girl!" Jenny said, giggling as she hung up. She yawned and stretched, glancing at Haytham's closed door. He hadn't come out to get his sandwich, so she had stuck it back into the fridge. She frowned, thinking she should at least check on him but then decided against it. She turned her attention back to the TV.

It was only fifteen minutes after she got off the phone with Britney when the door opened. "Oh, hey sea star," Edward said in a low voice, "didn't know you were still up."

"Yeah," Jenny said, smiling at her father. "Just watching some TV."

"Is your brother in bed?"

"I don't know," Jenny said flippantly. "He was a little brat this evening and locked himself in his room, hasn't come out since. He didn't eat his sandwich so you can have it."

"Jenny," Edward sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, "did you at least check on him?"

"Err… no," she mumbled. "Look, Dad, it's probably not that big of a deal. Haytham is probably asleep. I mean it's almost three in the morning."

"That's not the point," Edward said, heading to Haytham's room. "When you're babysitting I expect you to keep an eye on him. If you can't do that I'll get someone who can and they'll keep an eye on both of you."

"Great, I'm nineteen, I'm not a kid," Jenny said, rolling her eyes.

"You are my daughter, Jennifer, and you're only nineteen. Hardly worthy of being an adult. And if you insist on acting like a child I'll bloody treat ya like one," Edward said, opening the door to Haytham's room. "Haytham?" he asked, noticing the window opened and the screen popped out. He flicked the light on. "Haytham, son, are you hiding?" Edward swallowed, feeling his heart beat quicken. "Jenny, where's Haytham?"

"Isn't he in his room?" Jenny asked, getting up off the couch to come to the door.

"No," Edward said, turning to her, "he isn't and the window's open with the screen popped out. Haytham!" Edward shouted, going to his room. "Haytham, son, are you in here? This isn't funny Haytham! Haytham answer me!"

"Dad, relax. I'm sure he's just hiding in a closest," Jenny said.

"I left you in charge! I trusted you to watch your little brother!" Edward shouted, tugging at his hair. "He's only seven, Jenny!"

"I never asked for this! I never wanted to be a big sister to an ungrateful little brat!" Jenny snapped.

"He's your brother, Jenny!"

"So what! You always pay attention to _him_! It's always about _him_! What's so special about him!" Jenny snapped, following her father as he looked through the house for Haytham.

"You were supposed to be watching him, Jennifer! HAYTHAM!" Edward bellowed as he stomped around the house looking for his son. "Haytham, games up son, come out! Haytham!"

"Don't you realize that I'm your daughter too? You left when I was two and the last time I saw you I was five! I wished I had you, Dad," Jenny snapped, tears pricking her eyes. "I hate you!"

"Jenny…" Edward said, stopping to stare at his daughter. Jenny sniffed, unable to hold back her tears.

"No! All you care about is stupid Haytham!" Jenny cried, arms around her herself. "I should just go back to New York, it's clear you don't want me here."

"No, Jenny, that's not it," Edward sighed, grabbing his daughter and pulling her into a hug. "I love you too. It's just… well, I think it's taking all of us a bit of time to adjust to this new living arrangement."

"It's not fair," Jenny sniffled. "I try being nice to him but he's just such a brat to me."

"I'm sorry lass. I think he's unsure on how to react to this. He's only ever had me," Edward muttered. "I think he may be jealous."

"Well, I'm jealous of him," Jenny muttered. Edward chuckled. "He has you."

"I'm here now, Jen. I'm here now and I never stopped loving you," Edward said, stroking her hair. "I love you and Haytham so much."

"I'm sorry, Daddy," Jenny muttered.

"Shh, next time just be more careful. He shouldn't've gotten far. Let's go see if he's somewhere outside."

"Okay," Jenny said. Edward smiled and kissed her forehead.

"C'mon, let's find your brother," Edward said. He let Jenny go and headed to the cabinet, pulling out two flashlights. Father and daughter left the house. "You'll go up that way, I'll look down this way. We'll meet back at the house after sunrise."

"Right," Jenny said.

"His full name is Haytham Edward," he said, "though Haytham is a pretty unique name."

"Yeah, I know. I got it Dad," Jenny said. She wanted to get going now, not waste time yakking about things.

"Right, just…"

"I'll be alright," Jenny said, flicking the flashlight on. She glanced over her shoulder as her father began walking down the street in the opposite direction, she smiled and began walking down the sidewalk calling for Haytham.

* * *

Haytham didn't sleep well. It got too cold during the night, despite the muggy heat. Haytham really just wanted to go home. He wanted his father to hug him and cover his faces in kisses, hold him tightly and run his fingers through his hair. Haytham sat up and sniffed, hugging his stuffed eagle. "I miss him," he whispered to the eagle. "I miss Father."

The eagle toy didn't reply. Haytham frowned, staring at it. It had lost an eye somewhere along the way, and Edward had sewn a button in its place. There was a big patch on its back, cut out from Edward's old utility shirt from his Navy days. There was another one on the left wing. He had this stuffed eagle since he was a baby. Haytham threw it with all his might over the railing of the tree house. It reminded him of his father and his father brought Jenny to their house and it's all his fault everything is wrong in the first place.

As soon as he did it, Haytham regretted tossing the toy away. He scrambled to railing and stared at the toy lying abandoned in the dirt. He swallowed and debated if he should go down and retrieve it. "No," Haytham muttered. He was about to go back to his corner when he heard his name, faint and distant but still his name. A smile spread across his face, his father was worried and looking for him. He heard his name again and realized that it wasn't his father's voice but _her_ voice. Haytham folded his arms over his chest and pouted. Jenny's voice grew closer and closer.

"Haytham! Haytham Edward Kenway! Haytham!" Jenny called, walking passed the lot. Haytham watched her, flashlight moving side to side as she called for him. "Haytham! Haytham where are you!" Jenny shouted. "Haytham, c'mon! Enough of this, I'm sorry! Dad's really worried about you! Haytham!"

Haytham swallowed, he wanted to call out, to say something, to bring his father back to him, but he stubbornly refused to answer his sister's calls. Jenny shone her flashlight in the direction of the tree house, and Haytham scuttled back, only to realize he had thrown his eagle. Jenny gave a small gasp of surprise, clearly spotting the toy and running towards it. Haytham heard the scuffing of her sneakers stop as she picked up the toy. Cautiously he peeked out, only to gasp when her flashlight shone into his eyes. "Haytham?" Jenny called, rushing towards the tree house.

"No," Haytham whispered and dove on top of the trap door. It thumped closed, his weight preventing Jenny from entering.

"Haytham, open up! I know it's you, so open the hell up!" Jenny said, smacking the trap door with the flat of her hand. "Now squirt!"

"Shut up!" Haytham shouted.

"Haytham, now! We need to talk!"

"No, I hate you!"

"You barely know me; how can you hate me?" Jenny asked. Haytham paused, realizing that she had a point. "C'mon, open up, let's talk."

Haytham sighed and slowly crawled away from the trap door. Jenny eased it open, tossing her flashlight and the stuffed eagle onto the floor before hauling herself up. Haytham grabbed his toy and cuddled it as he retreated into his corner. He watched Jenny close the door and folded her legs into the lotus position. "Okay, talk," he said. Jenny didn't say anything for several moments, but she did grab her flashlight and held it beneath her chin.

"I'm going to tell you a spooky story," she said in a spooky voice. Haytham stared. She sighed, clicking the flashlight off. "Look I'm sorry," Jenny said.

"You should be," Haytham muttered. Jenny huffed, running a hand through her hair. "You come here and ruin my life! Everything was going perfect! It was just me and Father! It's always only been us! Ever since my mother died…" Haytham trailed off.

"Your mom died?" Jenny asked, curious. Haytham glanced at her, then away, staring at the picture of him and his father, thumb stroking the eagle. He mutely nodded. "I'm sorry," Jenny whispered. "At least you… remember her right?"

"No," Haytham replied, eyes downcast, "she died when I was only a year old." Jenny gave a low whistle. "Father has always been there for me. It's always been him and me against the world. It's always just been us."

"I know what you mean," Jenny said. Haytham looked up at her then, shock clearly written on his face. "Dad… well, he didn't leave but he and my mom always fought. He was overseas when I was born and when I was around two Mom packed up, put me in my car seat and left, moving back to my grandparents in New York." Jenny laughed. "I clearly don't remember it, but I've heard my mom tell the story enough times that it feels like I remember." She tucked some hair behind her ear. "Mom never talked about Dad. It was like he was dead to her, I did have on picture of him though. Do you wanna see?"

Haytham stared at Jenny before slowly scooting over to her as she pulled out a tattered old picture. There were two heavy creases in it, where Jenny had folded the picture in quarters. "See, this is my mom," she said pointing to a woman with strawberry blond hair and bright blue eyes. "Her name is Caroline Scott. She and our dad got married rather young, maybe that's why it didn't work out."

"She's pretty… your mom," Haytham mumbled.

"Thanks, so is your mom. I saw the pictures." Jenny said, "What's her name."

"Tessa," Haytham said smiling. "She use to sing me lullabies and she liked baking. At least… that's what Father said."

"Well, my mom liked to cook. She was always in the kitchen and she'd give me life advice as she cooked. She was also very passionate and headstrong. I remember she scared away this boy I was dating. He apologized the next day to me and was a complete gentleman to every girl he met from then on out," Jenny said, giggling, "I've often wondered what my mom said to hm. Sometimes during the Fourth of July if she had it off, we'd go to the roof of our apartment with a six pack of orange soda and climb to the roof and watch the fireworks."

"Father and I do that!" Haytham said, "Only this year was extra special because you were here. That's why he bought those tickets."

"Oh. I didn't know," Jenny said.

"Yeah, we'd climb to the roof with a blanket and a six pack of root beer and watch fireworks. Father says when I'm old enough we'll do it but with real beer." Haytham looked at his sister, "But root beer is _real_ beer."

Jenny snorted with laughter. "Oh, wow… you really don't know anything." Haytham frowned. "Don't worry, Mom was like that with me too. There would be days I'd catch her smoking on the balcony. I think those were the days when she missed our dad the most. I always pretended that I never noticed or how she cried every time new bills came or that she took a second job at the strip club when I was thirteen. I always just smiled and told her I love her."

"You did that?" Haytham whispered, "Pretend not to notice those things?"

"Yeah?"

"I do too…" Haytham looked away. "Father tries really hard. He'd always get drunk when the bills come. I'd pretend not notice and put a blanket over him before going to bed, leave the TV on too. He'd steal gas from the neighbours because sometimes money'll get so tight that it was either buy groceries or gas for that week. Normally we'd go to Uncle Thatch's or Aunt Mary's then for dinner or they'd bring us groceries."

"Mom would send me to my grandparents during those times. It was only ever for a week or two, then she'd come and pick me up," Jenny said. "Sometimes a social worker would come to my school and ask me questions."

"Did they ever ask you if your mom touched in a bad way?" Haytham asked.

"No, why? They'd ask if my mom's boyfriend did. But Mom never had a boyfriend. I guess Dad was her one true love."

"A social worker asked me if Father touched me in a bad way," Haytham muttered.

"Eeew, what a bitch. Dad would never do that! He loves you too much," Jenny said.

"That's what I told her!" Haytham said, leaning against Jenny, shivering. Jenny put her arm around him. "Jenny," he whispered.

"Hmm?"

"I'm sorry I was mean to you," Haytham said, "we… we have a lot in common."

"We do. I mean, we're pretty different but we have common ground. And it's okay, I… I guess I was also pushy. I was trying to get you to like me on my terms, instead of letting you come to me."

"What was it like?" he asked.

"What was what like?"

"Having a mom, what was it like?" Haytham asked.

"Having a mom is the greatest thing in the world," Jenny said softly. "Moms are always there for you. Mom always knew when I was sad, and she'd cook my favorite food or sing my favorite song, badly and off key. I went on a school trip to Canada one year and my best friend Becca didn't want to be my friend anymore. I called Mom and just talked to her, she made everything better. She'd come and hug you at night when the monsters feel like they are too close. Moms always give you hugs and kisses and watch really cliché TV dramas with you while eating ice cream. Moms kiss your hurts and let you cry on their shoulders or let you vent when you're angry.

"They can be really scary when they're mad, and punishment is really awful. I remember this one time I snuck out to see a boy and my mom caught me. She spanked me right there in front of everyone and grounded me for a month! I cried myself to sleep, but that night she snuck into my room and ran her fingers through my hair and whispered that she'll always love me and that I'll always be her precious baby. Moms are best friends with a life time guarantee and they are angels on earth, because a mom will always love you no matter how badly you screw up, your mom will always love you," Jenny said.

"I miss my mother," Haytham whispered, snuggling closer to Jenny.

"Well, what was it like with a dad?" Jenny asked. Haytham looked at her and bit his lip, thinking.

"Father is… special. Father tries to do everything and fix everything, even if he always can't. Fathers kiss your hurts, and scare away the monsters by being scarier than the monsters. Fathers are always willing to let you be the hero and will appreciate whatever you do so long as you put your heart into it. Fathers try to be cool in front of your friends even when you really don't want them to be because they end up being dorks. They crack really bad jokes that you just laugh at so their feelings don't get hurt. Father always could tell when I'm sad, we'd eat sardines and crackers with mustard then or he'd make hot chocolate.

"Fathers can also be really scary. I broke a vase that belonged to my mother, by accident, and I lied about it and Father found out. He spanked me so hard that I couldn't sit down for a few minutes, but that night I had a horrible nightmare and came running into his room. He went into my room and beat my parka with a baseball bat to chase the monster out of my closet. Fathers give you practical advice and tell you to stand up for yourself. Fathers aren't stingy with hugs or kisses, but they do them less often so they are more special. They also enjoy doing crazy things. Father and I got into an epic snow ball fight one winter, I sprained my wrist because we were wrestling and he landed on me wrong. That's what having a father is like."

"So they can be like moms then too," Jenny said.

"Yeah, but I think… I think fathers understand that you grow up and have to make your own mistakes in the world."

"And moms just want to protect you no matter what happens, they want to fix it all for you because you are their precious baby," Jenny finished. "Yeah, I think you're right."

"So… what's it like having a little brother?" Haytham asked.

"I don't know, how's life with a big sister?" Jenny replied.

"I don't know," Haytham said. Jenny laughed.

"C'mon, let's go home, I'm sure Dad is about ready to send a search party out for both of us," Jenny said, shifting around to open the trap door. Jenny got down first as Haytham gathered is things and shoved them into his backpack.

"Hey, Jenny… can I ask you a question?" Haytham asked.

"What, squirt?"

"Don't call me that," Haytham grumbled, "and I was wondering if you could help us take back our tree house from the Assassins tomorrow."

"Oh? Why me?"

"Well… because you're bigger than everyone and stronger and… a girl," Haytham said.

"What does me being a girl have to do with anything?" Jenny asked as she took Haytham's backpack. "Where did you get the pouch? It's pretty."

"Ziio made it for me for my birthday," Haytham said, grinning broadly. "She's really cool. She's Mohawk, and she isn't afraid of anything! She beats up the bullies! She even beat up my friend Charles… but he called her a mucky savage, which apparently is a bad thing. She really likes cooking but she's so incredibly bossy."

"So… Ziio's your girlfriend," Jenny said.

"What?" Haytham snapped, missing a rung and falling. Jenny caught him. "Ziio isn't my girlfriend, Jenny!"

"Uh-huh, what's her favorite color?"

"White."

"Her birthday?"

"January 14."

"Favorite season?"

"Winter."

"Favorite ice cream flavor?"

"Vanilla."

"Favorite food?"

"Duck."

"Favorite movie?"

"She has two, _Dances with Wolves_ and _The Last of the Mohicans_."

"Favorite book?"

" _Weetamoo: Heart of the Pocassets_."

"Favorite drink?"

"Milk."

"Dream job?"

"Owning her own restaurant."

"Does she have any pets?"

"A dog, named Koko."

Jenny smirked as she led Haytham towards their house. "Does she know everything about you?"

"Of course," Haytham scoffed, still unsure as to where this conversation was going. "Why wouldn't she? We asked each other all the most important questions."

"Does she boss you around?"

"Sometimes… especially in the kitchen."

"She's your girlfriend."

"Ziio isn't my girlfriend, Jenny! She's just a friend that happens to be a girl!"

"How many kids does she want?"

"One and she wants it to be a boy."

"Why only one?"

"Because she has a really large family, so she wants to have a really small family so she can smother her child with all the love. And she wants a boy because she knows what it's like to be a girl."

"Not your girlfriend, my ass," Jenny muttered. "Daddy!" Jenny shouted, waving at Edward who was nervously pacing before the front step. "Daddy, look who I found!"

"Haytham!" Edward cried, running up to them and scooping up Haytham. "Oh Haytham! Haytham! Haytham!" Edward muttered kissing his son all over the face and holding him tightly. "I thought I lost you. I thought I lost you and I'd never see you again."

"I'm okay, Father," Haytham muttered, wrapping his arms around his father's neck. "I'm really okay. Jenny found me."

"Did you two work out your differences?" Edward asked.

"Yeah, we did," Haytham said, looking at his sister, "right Jenny?"

"All the major ones at least," Jenny said, resting her hand on Haytham's shoulder. "Though he's still an annoying little squirt."

"Well, you're a mean butt-face," Haytham said, though a smile was on his face. Jenny laughed.

"C'mon, it's early enough I thin Denny's is still open, let's go get breakfast, then we'll come home and sleep till noon, how does that sound?"

"Awesome!" Haytham shouted.

"That sounds excellent," Jenny agreed.

"Alright, let's go to Denny's, everyone into the car!" Edward said and they headed off to Denny's, laughing along the way.

* * *

 **This is the last chapter for a while. I'm going off to Seattle and then I'm going to be working on my original fiction all next month since I'm part taking in Camp NaNoWriMo. So, until then leave reviews, read my other stories and if I need a break from my camp story, I'll update another chapter. This has to be one of my favorite chapters because it's really touching, Jenny and Haytham get to bond and realize that they aren't so different.**

 **Anyway, thank you for reading and leaving me kind reviews, at least those that do leave kind reviews, thank you.**

 **Save an author; leave a review.**

 **-Nemo**

 **PS: Weetamoo is a Royal Diary book.**


	17. The Kenway Family Jewels

**Assassin's Creed (c) Ubisoft**

 **Note: There is a joke in the title.**

* * *

"Bye Dad, have a good day at work!" Jenny called, waving as her father drove off. She turned and looked at Haytham, who was sitting on the couch reading a book. He seemed utterly engrossed with it, smiling and sometimes giggling to himself as he calmly turned a page. Jenny sat on the couch, pulled her feet up and grabbed the TV remote. "Whatcha reading, tyke?" Jenny asked, tucking some hair behind her ear. She grabbed for his foot, in a playful manner, but Haytham drew his feet closer, glaring at her haughtily.

" _James and the Giant Peach_ ," he said, sticking his nose back into the book. Jenny frowned.

"Do you mind if I watch TV?" Jenny asked. " _The Parkers_ is on soon."

"Do you have to? I like reading out here," Haytham whined, looking at her. Jenny frowned. "Besides, don't you have to make dinner?"

"I was thinking about ordering pizza," Jenny said, tossing some hair over her shoulder. Haytham arched a brow. "You like pizza right?"

"I like pizza," he said slowly, wondering what his sister was plotting.

"Okay, so pizza sounds good to you?" she asked.

"You just want to flirt with that pizza guy," Haytham pointed out, watching his sister's cheeks color. "Don't you?"

"Shut up, Haytham," Jenny growled, eyes glued to the TV. Haytham smirked, turning a page.

"Kissy-kissy," Haytham teased, "someone's in looove!"

" _What!_ No! You're making things up, Haytham," Jenny said, clicking the TV on.

"Do you even have money?"

"Dad left us forty dollars," Jenny said. "So yes," she looked at him and grabbed his foot. "I do have money!" she shook it.

"Ach! Jenny, stop that!" Haytham squirmed away, giving his sister an indignant look. Jenny laughed, grabbed her brother by the arm and pulled him close, wrapping her arm around his throat and rubbing her knuckles against his head. "Jenny!"

"Oh, you are no fun, you need to lighten up, Hammie." Jenny let her brother go.

Haytham froze, staring at his sister with wide eyes filled with something akin to embarrassment and horror. "What did you call me?"

"Uhm… Hammie? Is that okay, Haytham is a mouthful," Jenny said. Haytham flushed with embarrassed anger.

"Haytham is _not_ a mouthful!" Haytham seethed. Jenny gave an indignant snort. "So, don't call me that!"

"Dad calls you sea urchin," Jenny pointed out.

"Father is Father," Haytham muttered darkly. "Just because he does, doesn't mean you are allowed to butcher my name!"

"Whatever," Jenny said, "I'm still going to call you Hammie."

"Don't you dare!" Haytham squeaked. "I can't be… if my friends found out…" Haytham rubbed his face. "Fine, I'll call you Jen-Jen."

Jenny felt her brow twitch as she stared at her little brother. "Why you little twerp!"

"I won't tell Tony the pizza guy if you promise not to tell my friends," Haytham said, sitting up straighter on his side of the couch, gloating. Jenny wrung the pillow in her hands.

"Fine. You have a deal and speaking of friends," Jenny began, fluidly changing the subject, "why don't you play in the treehouse I found you in?"

Haytham scowled and plopped back onto the couch, arms folded over his chest, one hand clutching his book. "The Assassins have it," Haytham spat.

"The Assassins?" she arched a brow, and Haytham gave her a look. "Oooh, the other group of boys you play with."

" _I_ don't play with them," Haytham said in a haughty tone. " _I_ play with the Templars. We're knights. The tree house is ours, but the Assassins ambushed and stole it from us. We haven't been able to figure out a plan of attack to get it back, despite Shay's best efforts at being a spy."

"Well, maybe I can help?" Jenny offered. Haytham looked at her, a frown on his face. He rubbed his face. "I'm older and stronger, and I've done such things before."

"Really?"

"Yep, I pranked my entire high school my senior year," Jenny said with a grin, "day before I graduated. I and some friends were able to get the principal's car to the roof. So, if you want a surprise attack, I'm your girl."

"You'd really help?"

"Sure," Jenny said, "I mean you are moping around the house because some jerks kicked your ass."

"You aren't allowed to say that word," Haytham said, and imploring look in his eyes.

"What word?"

"The last one, with the a."

"Why?" Jenny wrinkled her nose.

"It's a bad word, Aunt Mary will tan ya hide if you say it around me," Haytham said. "I'm young and innocent and such profanity shall not soil my virginal ears." He grinned at her. Jenny rolled her eyes.

"So, who is this Aunt Mary anyway? I don't think Dad had a sister. Did your mom?"

"Mother's family didn't like Father. They are estranged. Father told me that when Mother died, he called them to tell them, he barely got the news out before they hung up on him. Father didn't see them at Mother's funeral, so I don't think they showed up."

"Wow," Jenny whispered, "what a bunch of bitches."

"You can't say that word either," Haytham chimed. Jenny rolled her eyes. "But I agree. I mean, Mother was their daughter and she died. They should've at least cared and what about me? I'm their grandson."

"Don't worry about them Haytham," Jenny said, "you have me now."

"Thanks." He smiled. "So when are you gonna order pizza?" Jenny sighed, rolling her eyes.

* * *

Haytham sighed through his nose, swallowing nervously as his friends came over. He never had any of them over to his house. The furthest Shay got was his doorstep and they just ate popsicles. Today, however, involved them actually going into the house.

"Wow…" William whispered. "Why have you never brought us over before?"

"Because my father lives here," Haytham grumbled, not wanting to get into his father. "My sister made lemonade."

"Since when did you have a sister?" John asked.

"Since I was born, apparently," Haytham said with a shrug, pulling out the pitcher of lemonade and glasses for him and his friends. He poured the pale yellow-grey liquid into the cups.

"This house smells weird," Thomas muttered, then glared when William elbowed him. "What? I'm just saying it does."

"You need to be nice to the host," William pointed out, accepting his glass of lemonade from Haytham with a soft thank you.

"It's fine," Haytham muttered, sipping his own drink. "The house does smell weird." He looked up when he heard the door the back yard open. He paled when he saw his father and sister walk in.

"Hey, Haytham, is that your sister?" Thomas asked, pointing to Jenny.

"Haytham, I didn't know you invited your little friends," Edward said, rubbing the back of his neck, "I'd've clean the house a bit." He glanced at the dirty dishes still in the sink. "So, you kids staying for dinner?"

"No," Haytham said sharply, before any of his friends could answer, "we are just here to lay the plan for taking our tree house back," Haytham looked at his sister, "we could use Jenny's help too."

"I'm still not sure what you guys want me to do," Jenny muttered as she started cleaning the dishes.

"Jen, you don't have to do that," Edward muttered, but his daughter glared at him and continued the task.

"That's why we're here to discuss it," Haytham said. "It shouldn't take very long since Shay was our spy for so long, he knows everything about how the Assassins do stuff. William and Thomas got their parents to buy squirt guns and water balloons."

"Yeah, it's just… planning on when to attack now," Shay agreed.

"We could use your sister as a distraction," Thomas said, "I mean, she's super pretty."

"I doubt the Assassins will be duped with a plan like that," Haytham said, "hold on, I got a map." He slipped off his chair and scampered to his room. He returned a short time later with a piece of paper, childish drawings done in crayon. "Here," Haytham said, a blue crayon around in his hand. "Shay says the Assassins are in there from noon to four-thirty every day," he drew blue unhappy faces in the tree house. "Now we are here… and during the hottest part of is when they do nothing!"

"So, we attack then?" Thomas asked.

"Exactly!" Haytham shouted.

"We can do it today even! We have the time," Charles supplied. "It's only o'clock."

"We can gather everything now," William said.

"Yeah!" the others agreed.

"And afterwards, you boys can come here for dinner," Edward said, "I'll make burgers and hot dogs."

"Father," Haytham muttered, "that won't be—"

"Yeah! Awesome! My mom won't mind! Can you make cheeseburgers?" the boys shouted, drowning out Haytham's protests. Edward chuckled.

"Alright, burgers and hot dogs it is," Edward said.

"Jenny, you'll help us take the treehouse back right?" Haytham asked, looking up at his sister.

"Dad?" Jenny looked at Edward.

"I can manage, Jen," Edward said, "go play with your brother." Jenny grinned, putting the last of the clean dishes into the drainage area.

"C'mon," she said, looking at Haytham and his friends, "let's go kick some butt."

* * *

Storming the tree house wasn't difficult, it would've been if it wasn't for Jenny and Shay. Both were able to get the Assassins into a sense of false security. That's when Haytham and the others opened up the attack, pelting the Assassins with water balloons and squirt gun fire. The Assassin boys screamed, and Achilles, who happened to be playing with them, told Shay they'll never play with him again.

The Assassins weren't totally ill-prepared though, having a stash of squirt guns themselves and they returned fire, and soon enough both sides were soaked, grins of triumph (or frustration) plastered on their faces, wet hair clinging to their foreheads. The crowning achievement was when Jenny climbed up the rope escape and hosed the Assassins, screaming 'For the Templars!' as she chased the rest of the Assassins out the treehouse with the hose.

"C'mon! Here's our chance!" Haytham shouted, sprinting towards the treehouse. He fired his squirt gun at the fleeing Assassins before dropping the weapon and climbing up the later. "Nice work, Jenny," Haytham said and tore down the Assassin images inside the tree house, before going to the edge. "We did it guys! The Green Dragon is ours!" Haytham shouted. The cheer went up among the Templars, as the six other boys climbed up.

Haytham watched as the Assassins grumbling trotted down the street back to their houses. Grinning, he scanned the lot, trying to spot if any of the Assassins would come back or had hid. None, but he noticed that Ziio was walking pass the lot. "Ziio!" he shouted, scrambling down as fast as he could. "Ziio! Ziio!" he ran across the lot and skidded to a halt by her.

"Haytham," Ziio greeted, arching a brow. "Why are you alright?"

"I… I mean, we, the Templars," Haytham stammered, pushing the loose wet strains of his hair out of his face, and he tugged at his wet shirt. "We took back our treehouse," he said, puffing out his chest a little with pride.

"Hey, Haytham! Stop making kissy faces at Ziio and come up and celebrate!" Thomas shouted, waving a can of root beer. "My big brother would say: you should just get on with it man, kiss her, if ya like her!" Haytham flushed at Thomas' words.

"Haytham? Why are you red?" Ziio asked, glancing up at the boys in the treehouse. Haytham looked up when Jenny's shadow fell over him. "Who are you?" Ziio looked up at Jenny.

"My sister," Haytham explained in a mumble. "Jenny."

Jenny smirked, placing her hands on her brother's shoulders. "Kissy-kissy Haytham," she whispered just loud enough for Haytham and Ziio to hear her. "Someone's in looove!"

"Jenny!" Haytham seethed, pulling away from his sister. Jenny laughed, before going back to the treehouse to celebrate with the other boys. Haytham glanced at Ziio, noticing that the pretty Mohawk girl had a blush tinting her cheeks. Haytham hung his head, ashamed his secret got out. He moved to leave by Ziio grabbed his hand.

"Is it true?" she whispered, holding the ends of his fingers to prevent him from running off. "What your sister said?"

Haytham's flush deepened, his entire face, neck and ears a deep cherry red. He couldn't look at Ziio, but nodded. "Yeah, it is."

Ziio was silent for several moments. "Good," she said, causing Haytham to snap his gaze to her. "I was afraid that I was the only one."

A little smile curved Haytham's lips and he quickly leaned in, pecking her cheek. Ziio's blush deepened, she let go of Haytham's hand and touched her cheek. "Bye," she whispered, a smile on her face and she ran off down the street. Haytham watched her go, and once he was sure she was gone he gave a boyish whoop of joy, jumping into the air as he did so.

* * *

 **My birthday is tomorrow. This chapter took way too long to get up. Next chapter begins the angst fest. We're also going to be aging Haytham up. He'll be ten in the next chapter. Finally!**

 **Stay tune!**

 **Save an author; leave a review!**

 **-Nemo**


	18. Life's Precious Moments

**Assassin's Creed (c) Ubisoft**

* * *

Haytham knew he shouldn't be doing this, but the conversation he had with Jenny had gotten his curiosity piqued. He pushed the sliding door of his father's closet open, clicked the flashlight on and began to look at everything squirrel away in the closet. The cardboard boxes had labels like _Navy shit_ and _shit from home_ and _misc. shit_ , though there were two boxes labeled _Caroline's stuff_ and _Tessa's stuff_. There was also a salt stained green bag tucked away in the back. "Cool," Haytham said, "hey Jenny! Jenny c'mere! Come look at this!" Haytham heard his sister get off the couch.

"Just because we were talking about Dad doesn't mean we can go snooping through his things," Jenny said.

"He's not home, as long as we put everything back it'll be fine," Haytham said. "There's boxes with our mothers' names on them."

"Oh." Jenny stared at the box with her mother's name on it. "Alright, I'm sure one little peek won't hurt. So long as we put everything back."

"Exactly," Haytham agreed, before grabbing the salt-stained sea-bag and hauling it into the living room. Jenny eased the box with her mother's name on it down, setting it on the floor before getting the box with Tessa's name on it down. Haytham trotted back into the room. "We should pull out the miscellaneous box and the one with stuff from home," Haytham added. "Who knows what we may find in there."

"Or we can just ask him," Jenny grumbled, feeling oddly uncomfortable about snooping through their father's things. "Don't you feel… bad for doing this?"

"Not really," Haytham said, "I mean, I'll never go in here on my own, but I've always been curious. I would never have the courage to ask though. Why?"

"I just feel… wrong, about doing this. I remember once when I was eleven, I snooped through my mother's things and she got mad at me."

"Father won't. He might… at first, but I don't think he'll stay mad for long," Haytham said, "I mean, it took him six years for him to tell me about Mother."

"How did your mother die? If you don't mind me asking?" Jenny asked, as she helped get the other boxes down and into the living room. Haytham shrugged.

"I don't know, Father says it was a freak accident, but what sort of accident he won't say," Haytham muttered. "Did he ever come and visit you?"

"No," Jenny said, "I mean… he tried. I think. Why?"

"Because this box has your name on it," Haytham said, turning the miscellaneous box around. Scrawled in Edward's sloppy handwriting was _Jenny's things_. "Maybe he bought you stuff."

"Why?" Jenny asked, opening the box. It smelled musty and like old cardboard, but there were dolls and pictures. "He left when I was two… the only memory I have of him was this time at a courthouse."

"A courthouse? What were you doing there?" Haytham asked, picking up a pink ribbon. There were so many girly things on top, but as he dug deeper, he saw the random odds and ends his father had kept over the years.

"So, Dad and Mom got a divorce when I was two, but Dad could still visit me and he was obligated to pay child-support. Well, apparently, the divorce was really messy. Mom and Dad loathed each other in the way only two people that love each other can. Dad never paid the child-support so my mom tried to get the money from him. Long story short, there was big court battle, and it didn't end until I was five." Jenny said, picking up a doll, if she titled it the eyes would open or close. She dropped it back into the box.

"What happened?" Haytham asked.

"He stopped calling to talk to me," Jenny said. "I saw him at the courthouse when the judge made his decision. He hugged me and told me he'd always love me. I never saw him after that."

Haytham didn't know what to say, instead he hugged his sister. "It's okay… he's here now right? That's all that matters."

"I guess…" Jenny muttered.

"Clearly Father regrets, otherwise he'd never keep all this stuff, right?" Haytham pointed out. "He loves you."

"Do you think I'm stupid for coming here?" Jenny asked, reaching back into the box for the stuffed rabbit. "I mean, I was really nervous and scared about coming all the way to Boston on my own to see a man that I barely even know."

"Why would that be stupid?" Haytham asked. "If I knew my mom was still alive somewhere I'd do everything I could to find her."

"If she was still alive and you had the chance to meet her… would you?" Jenny asked. Haytham frowned. On one hand he would love to meet his mother, hear her voice and talk to her and feel her hugs and kisses yet on the other hand if she was alive and never bothered to talk to him then he could resent her.

"I think so," he whispered, unsure about such a heavily weighted question on his small seven-year-old shoulders. "I hope I would still… want to and not hate her so much for abandoning me."

Jenny smiled, leaning forward and kissing Haytham on the forehead. "Thanks," she whispered.

"For what?" he looked at her confused, his hand twitched once with the want to wipe the kiss from his forehead.

"For saying that. I finally feel like I did the right thing in coming here," Jenny said. "Now, I'm going to make some grilled cheese sandwiches for lunch, then afterwards we can finish going through these boxes."

"Okay," Haytham agreed, a big grin on his face.

* * *

Edward sighed, parking the car in the driveway, Jenny's car was in the house's garage. Work had been long and exhausting and all he wanted to do was watch Disney movies with his kids and eat pizza. He scooped up the delicious smelling pizzas, in their cardboard boxes, got out of the car and headed inside.

"Father!" Haytham cried, throwing himself onto the back of the couch, a huge grin on his face. "I want to learn how to swordfight."

"What?" Edward arched a brow, completely taken off guard.

"Swordfight!" Haytham repeated, pointing to the TV where an old video was playing, the date emblazoned in the lower left hand corner.

 _"Next up, Edward Kenway, sophomore, from Jackdaw High School!"_ the video said. _"Versus, Wood Rodgers, junior, from Whetstone Galley Private Preparatory School!"_

"Jaysus, Haytham… where did you find those?" Edward asked, staring at the TV. He closed the door and handed the pizza boxes to Jenny, giving her a hastily muttered hello.

"Jenny and I went looking through your closet," Haytham muttered, a sheepish blush covering his cheeks, "I hope it's okay."

Edward chuckled. "Why you little rascal," he said, ruffling Haytham's hair. "You did put everything back though?"

"Yep! Well, we kept the videos out," Haytham said, glancing quickly at the TV.

"I think I won that match," Edward said, coming around to sit on the couch. Jenny walked in with three plates of pizza. "Wood Rodgers is a—"

"Pompous preppy bitch?" Jenny supplied, handing her father and brother their plates. She sat down next to Haytham, tucking her feet beneath her.

"I wouldn't have said that, but yet," Edward agreed, "he is. Oddly enough, your mother said the same thing."

"Really?" Jenny asked, biting into her pizza.

"What happened to him?" Haytham asked, pulling off a greasy pepperoni slice.

"Don't know, don't care." Edward shrugged. He continued to make little comments about the match. His memory of the match was correct; he did beat Wood Rogers. Haytham and Jenny watched as the teenage image of their father removed his helmet, blond hair clinging to his sweaty forehead as he raised his sword up in victory. A pretty teenage girl came up to Edward, strawberry blond tresses bouncing as she kissed him on the cheek.

"Whoa," Jenny paused the film, freezing the image of Edward and the girl, both grinning like love-struck fools. "Is that… is that my mother?"

"Sure is," Edward said, "damn, she's beautiful."

"You two met in high school?"

"Uh-huh. We were high school sweethearts. Her father didn't like me much though," Edward sighed, "my parents adored her. Caroline came to every one of my matches. I was trying to go to the Olympics, but then my father died and I… couldn't continue fencing anymore."

"Mom never told me how you two met," Jenny whispered.

"I punched some guy in the face because he was bothering her," Edward chuckled. "I was a scrawny little freshmen and she was a junior."

"I wanna learn how to fence!" Haytham interjected, feeling ignored. "Can I get lessons? Please, please, please!"

"Lessons are expensive…" Edward mumbled.

"I'll keep up with my homework! And we already have swords that I can use!" Haytham said, "I really, really want to learn how to fence. Please, Father, please!"

"Alright, alright," Edward sighed, "I'll see what I can do sea urchin. I make no promises."

"Yes!" Haytham cheered, bouncing in his seat. Edward chuckled, pulling his son close, thinking about how he'd find a fencing team for his son. Edward began looking around the next day and as luck would have it, the school had one for a decent price and students could rent the gear needed for a modest fee. He signed Haytham up, and happily informed his son he'd start fencing lessons after the first week of school was complete. "Awesome! I'm gonna tell Shay and Charles… and Ziio! I have to tell her! She'll be so excited!" Haytham shouted before running off to play with his friends and inform them of his new after school activity.

Edward watched his son sprint off to join his friends, who were waiting for him at the end of the block, and whispered, "Haytham… please stop growing up so fast. I'm not ready to let you go yet… please, remain my little boy for a bit longer."

* * *

 **Alrighty, I thought I'd be able to leave the Year Seven behind but alas, I couldn't. I felt this chapter was needed for development and to bridge the next part of the story together. Why did Haytham suddenly want to learn fencing? Did Jenny and Haytham still maintain a good relationship? What exactly is in Edward's closest (even though it never came up before. Hahah)? Thus, this chapter.**

 **Now, I feel confident and comfortable in moving on to the next. Enjoy.**

 **Save an author; leave a review.**

 **Nemo**

 **PS: Whetstone Galley is one of the ships' owned by the historical Wood Rodgers. Also I beat ACIV Friday... I bawled like a baby at the end.**


	19. Edward Kenway, Drug Dealer

**Assassin's Creed (c) Ubisoft**

 **Concept (c) Sannam**

* * *

"So," Charles said, pushing the giant snowball around. "Once we establish Haytham as President of the United States, he'll make us like… also important people to, so we can help him run everything. Once that happens, we just tell the rest of the world to bow down before us."

"I don't think it works like that, Charles," William replied, pushing the giant snowball as well.

"Why do I have to be the President?" Haytham asked, he always got slotted for the leadership positions. While he didn't mind them, and felt he was rather good at leading, he was still only eight and being President of the United States of America sounded really boring. He also wondered what was the point of making this titanic snowball. It already towered over their heads and the grass was starting to show, dead and brown, where they rolled it.

"Because, you're the Grand Master of the Knights Templar!" Charles pointed out.

"I still don't want to be President. I don't want to be a lawyer," Haytham said, "and you _have to_ be a lawyer to be the President."

"Or a general!" Thomas piped. "George Washington was a general."

"George Washington also was angry and had wooden teeth, do I need those too?" Haytham shot back.

"George Washington was an idiot," Charles grumbled. The other boys stopped and stared at Charles, as if he had spoken blasphemy.

"He was the first President of the United States of America! The guy that kicked the British's butts! He's the reason we even have an America!" Thomas hissed. Charles frowned, not likely Thomas' blind hero worship of a man long dead.

"He's still a quack. My daddy said so."

"Do you always believe what your daddy says?" Thomas shot back, making Charles frown with annoyance.

"Hey, I got an idea!" Shay shouted, before anyone else could pick on Charles. "What if we built a super big company and we get into all sorts of different things with this company, and nobody realizes that we are really out for world domination. We create a video game and it allows us to mind control people!"

"That's a stupid idea," Haytham said, glancing at Shay.

"Why?"

"For starters, not everyone plays video games."

"Sure they do."

"No," Haytham said. "They don't. Old people don't play video games and neither do babies. How are we gonna mind control old people and babies if they don't play video games."

"Gotcha there," Charles sneered.

"Just up daddy's boy," Shay grumbled.

"Hey losers," a boy shouted. Haytham and his friends turned to see a tall fourth grader, that was plump and round, his face squashes and he had beady eyes and ruddy cheeks. His dark hair was buzzed short giving his face an even greater piggish appearance. "Lemme join your club. I wanna be a Temple Knight too."

"It's a _Templar_ Knight," Haytham said with a condescending air. "And who are you?" He glanced the boy up and down. The big fourth grader smacked his fist into his palm.

"I'm Rodrigo Borgia," the boy said. "Now, I wanna join your group, so you better let me otherwise I'll beat the snot out of that shifting eyed nerd over there." Rodrigo jerked his chin at Charles. " _Capire?_ "

"Uhm…" Haytham gulped, and his friends huddled behind him and pushed him forward. He swallowed again, staring at Rodrigo. "I don't think so. You… you can't intimidate us. We are the Templar Knights and we have a code of honor. We firmly believe in chivalry."

"What's chiverary, William?" Thomas whispered.

"It's _chivalry_. It means we treat people with respect and we rescue girls from bullies and hold doors open for them," William explained in a hush whisper.

"I don't do any of that stuff. Does that mean I can leave the club?"

"Do you want to lose your root beer supply?" William hissed back.

"No… fine, I'll stay."

"What's skivvery?" Rodrigo asked, then made a face as he glanced up into the sky. "Are you saying I'm stupid?" he asked Haytham, grabbing him by his parka. "Cause if ya are, I'm gonna punch ya."

"I wouldn't do that," Shay said quickly. Rodrigo and Haytham both looked at him. "His da's a drug dealer."

"Drug dealer? You mean like marijuana?" Rodrigo asked, that stupid thinking look back on his porky face.

"Yup." Shay gave a nod, pushing some of his dark brown hair out of his face.

"No he isn't," Haytham sighed, "Father just happens to have a bunch of scary friends, Sha—OW! Shay why did you kick me?"

"ShutupHaythamI'mtryingtoscarethebigoaf!" Shay hissed through clenched teeth, "So… a drug dealer! I'd let him go if I were you."

"Are you call me fat or stupid?" Rodrigo growled, dropping Haytham in the snow. He stepped on Haytham's hand as he walked towards Shay and grabbed him. "Cause I don't think I like ya talking to me like that. I think I'm gonna punch you first then your stupid friend."

"I'm not stupid," Haytham said, "and you let Shay go!"

"Haytham, don't go playing the hero! Liam's beat me up plenty of times! I can handle it," Shay shouted.

"No. I won't stand for bullies Shay," Haytham said. "Aunt Anne says that bullies are the scum of the earth and you have to stand up to them."

"Oh yeah?" Rodrigo asked, dropping Shay in the snow. "Well, how about you stand up to this!" Rodrigo said, punching Haytham in the face. Haytham staggered back, feeling the hot gush of blood ooze down his lip, he tripped over his feet and landed in the snow. "You still gonna stand up to me, pipsqueak?" Rodrigo asked. Haytham kicked out, hitting Rodrigo in his gut. He groaned, wrapping his arms around his middle. Haytham was about to throw a punch at Rodrigo when Shay grabbed him and dragged him away.

"I told you not to be a hero!" Shay grumbled, leading Haytham away. "C'mon, let's go to the nurse's office."

"I could've taken him."

"He'd flatten you!" Charles interjected.

"Charlie's right," Thomas piped up. "I've heard of him. He's the meanest kid on the playground. Even the Assassins are afraid of him."

"That's comforting," Haytham muttered, accepting the clump of snow Shay handed him. He pressed it to his bleeding nose. "He punched me in the face," Haytham whispered, feeling tears pricking at the corner of his eyes as his body caught up with its injury.

"But you kicked him in the gut," Shay pointed out. Haytham bit his trembling bottom lip, nodding in agreement with Shay.

Rodrigo come by every day to demand inclusion into their group. Each day, Haytham and his friends denied him and Rodrigo would grab Haytham and do several things to him. If Haytham refused, Rodrigo would punch him. When questioned why Rodrigo chose Haytham to bully, Rodrigo replied that as the leader he's responsible and thus needs to be taught a lesson. In was the first week of February, when Haytham got into the car sporting a black eyes and dried blood on his lip. "What happened to you kid?" Thatch asked.

Haytham gave his uncle a dejected look. "I told Father, but…" Haytham sighed.

"Well, tell your Uncle Thatch," Blackbeard said, as he began to pull out of the school parking light.

"There's this kid, he's a fourth grader, named Rodrigo Borgia. He's been bullying me… for weeks now!" Haytham said. "I wish he'd stop."

"Borgia… Borgia… I know that name," Thatch said, "don't you worry, kid, I'll fix things up."

"Thanks Uncle Thatch," Haytham muttered. "So, I take it that jerk called in sick again and Father had to cover him."

"Yep, asswipe," Thatch said, lighting a cigarette at the stop light. "Don't smoke kid. Nasty habit." Thatch added, rolling down the window and blowing the silvery smoke outside. Haytham scratched at the dried blood on his lip.

* * *

That night, Edward got home well pass two in the morning. "Hey Blackie," Edward muttered, opening the fridge and grabbing a plastic box with some leftovers. He opened it, gave it a sniff and decided it was good, before grabbing a beer and opening it. He sat down to his less than glamorous dinner. "What's up?"

"You know Haytham's been gettin' bullied?" Thatch asked, exhaling smoke. Edward sighed, muttering a curse as he ran a hand through his hair. "I take it as a yes."

"I've been meaning to call the principal, but I never get around to it. With Jenny going off to London for school and juggling two jobs and now Joe keeps calling in sick…"

"At least Jenny got a full scholarship," Thatch said.

"She's damn lucky too. Seems Caroline's father rubs some important elbows," Edward said, "explains why he never liked me that much."

"I told Haytham I'd take care of this bully for him."

"You aren't going to do anything uncouth are you?" Edward asked, spearing some gravy-gelled peas. Thatch waved a hand, silvery trails of smoke following in the wake of his hand. "We swore we'd be honest men."

"No, no. I'm not going to do anything like that," Thatch said, "you know me, Kenway. I'm a big ol' softie."

"Exactly," Edward said, "it's because I know you that I ask."

"You'll have nothing to worry about, trust me," Thatch said. Edward eyed his friend dubiously.

* * *

That Monday, Rodrigo didn't bother them, nor did he bother him the next day. Haytham and his friends didn't see Rodrigo for a good two weeks. In fact, they were beginning to worry this was some plot of Rodrigo's. "Where are you going?" Charles asked, when Haytham began to walk away from for their normal spot.

"I'm going to see if I can't find the Auditore brothers," Haytham said, "I'm going to ask them what happened to Rodrigo."

"Who cares what happened to him," Shay said. "He's gone."

"Still," Haytham said, "I want to make sure." He walked off in search of Giovanni and Mario.

Haytham was sitting in the dining room, flipping through his school books and listening to Thatch curse the kitchen sink, when Edward walked up to him. "So, uh… Haytham," Edward began, "how's school?" he asked.

"Fine."

"That kid isn't bothering you still?"

"Who? Rodrigo."

"Yeah, him. Is he?"

"Oh no, I talked to Giovanni, and he said that Rodrigo is too scared to come to school now," Haytham said, turning a page in his book. "Mario said that the Rodrigo moved to a fancy Catholic private school. I heard Robert De Sablé is there too. Apparently, someone threatened Rodrigo so… that's why he changed schools…" Haytham looked up at his father, "do you think he's so afraid he'd leave the country?"

Edward twitched, eyes narrowing as he shifted his gaze to the kitchen. "Maybe, sea urchin."

"Can you hand me the other book, Father? I'm done with this one."

"Sure," Edward said, handing his son the other book before marching into the kitchen. He found Thatch beneath the sink, grabbing onto the lip he leaned down to peer at his best friend. "Thatch, we need to talk."

"Yes, we do, Kenway. For starters: what the fuck do you keep shoving down the sink? Petroleum jelly? Cause this is the third goddamn time I had to look at the sink!" Thatch said, easy himself out from beneath the kitchen sink. He grabbed a rag and wiped his hands.

"What did you tell the Borgias? We agreed to be honest men now!" Edward asked, "And don't try to worm your way out of this. I know you had something to do with it!"

"You want honesty, Kenway, fine. I'll give you fucking honesty." Thatch said, and took a sip of water. "If you were any other poor bastard, I'd be charging you $180 for fixing the drain, and another $260 for installing a new faucet," Thatch said. Edward frowned, arms folded over his chest, an unimpressed look on his face. "You also are gonna need a new sink soon, and that in and of itself is up in the thousands. But, by the sorry state of your fridge, I hazard to guess you're struggling to make ends meet this month," Thatch said, "so, I'll tell you what I'm gonna do. Since I'm not a plumber by trade, and you're a friend, all I'm gonna charge you is a couple of beer and for you to keep your goddamn fucking mouth shut. Deal?"

Edward side, rubbing his arm like a scolded child. "…Deal."

"Glad's that settled, so, what have you been shoving down your sink?"

* * *

 **So… bit about Thatch for this story. In his navy days, he was a HT (Hull tech), and one of their jobs was working on the HVCT system (which is basically our toilet plumbing system). So, Thatch doesn't know all the ins and outs of domestic plumbing, but he has a general knowledge of how pips and plumbing work. He now runs a restaurant business.**

 **Next chapter, I promise will get to the angst!**

 **Save an author; leave a review.**

 **-Nemo**


	20. And the Curtain Falls for All

**Assassin's Creed (c) Ubisoft**

 **Concept (c) Sannam**

* * *

He had found the toy ring — wrought from cheap metal with a cheap plastic crystal — in a crackjack box. At nine years old (he'd be ten in a week), Haytham knew exactly what to do with the ring. He found it back in October yet had been unable to work-up the courage to actually talk to Ziio. Not since their mutual confession nearly three years ago, have they ever brought up the fact that they liked each other as more than just friends. _Today_ will _be different!_ Haytham told himself, clutching the ring in his pocket as he scanned for Ziio after school.

He spotted her, heading towards the far end of the parking lot where her mom or dad normally waited for her. Taking a deep breath, he called out and trotted up to her. She stopped, staring at him with own brow arched. They had made it a habit of meeting near others so nobody would get absurd ideas of them being a… a _couple!_ "What do you want Haytham?" Ziio asked, slightly annoyed that he dared break their unspoken rule.

Haytham swallowed, glancing at his feet. They were high end sneakers from London. Jenny having achieved one leg of her dream and getting into that high-tone and fancy-to-do fashion design school in London. (He had done everything to make them look old and beat up before school started. This course of action baffled Edward.) "I… I have something for you," Haytham said.

Ziio held out her hand. "Alright, hand it over," she said. Haytham froze, face going blank. "What's the matter?"

"Why have you been avoiding me lately?" he asked. She had, and it was bothering him. It wasn't normal, not that he hung out with her every day on the playground, but normally he could approach her without her scowling at him and running off.

"I haven't," Ziio hissed, indignant. "Now what do you have to give me?" she asked. Truth was, her parents were planning on moving closer to the reservation. Her grandfather was sick, and her grandmother couldn't handle everything on her own. So, her mother being the good daughter that she is, decided to relocate her family closer to the reservation. Ziio couldn't tell Haytham that. Ziio looked at Haytham, dressed in a long sleeved polo shirt, jeans, his fancy sneakers, and a good quality weather-resistant jacket. He was the second tallest boy in the class, and his once dark honey brown hair was now taking on the rich dark color of molasses. The wind had pulled a few strains lose, and they seemed to know how to fall just stylishly enough into his slate colored eyes to accent them in an alluring fashion.

Ziio could tell Haytham will be handsome when he grew older. Her grandmother was constantly asking after him, wondering when he'd come and visit. "Here," he said, pulling out a cheap costume ring. "I found this in a crackjack box," he took her delicate hand in his. Ziio loved his hands, they weren't surgeon thin or butcher thick, but that comfortable medium. _Hunter's hands,_ her grandmother said. Hands that knew how to kill and how to heal. "I… Ziio, I…" he licked his lips, before fixing her with his piercing gaze. She remembered going with Hope and the other girls in the class to a separate room a few weeks after school started. The two other female teachers there started to talk to them about the up-coming changes to their bodies that will start happening in the next handful of years. Ziio vaguely wondered if feeling nervous around Haytham was a part of the puberty package. "I promise," Haytham said, slipping the ugly band onto her finger, "that when we're all grown up, we'll get married."

"O-Okay," Ziio whispered, wrapping her fingers around Haytham's hand that held hers. She made herself look up at him and smile at him. This would be okay. One of her mother's siblings would decide to take care of Grandfather and they wouldn't have to move. She can continue to grow up with Haytham and then once they graduated high school they can get married… no, graduate college. Haytham said he wanted to go to college.

 _I should tell him… just in case one of Mom's siblings don't decide to take care of Grandfather…_ Ziio told herself. "I'll be waiting," Ziio whispered, a damsel-shy blush on her cheeks. Haytham's smile grew wider and his cheeks were pink and it wasn't from the dry biting wind of the New England winter either. "I gotta go," she said, rose to her tiptoes and pecked Haytham's cheek. She scampered off towards her father's car.

* * *

Haytham waved by to Shay and William, noting that Uncle Ben's car was parked by the curb. He thought it was odd, normally Uncle Thatch watched him on Thursdays. He shrugged, not really thinking much of it. He entered the house. "Hello Mother," he whispered to the family picture that was taken on his first birthday. He smiled as he looked at his mother's smiling image. He pulled his shoes off. "Father, I'm home!" he shouted, walking into further into the house, dropping his backpack into the box by the door. Uncle Ben and Edward poked their heads out.

"Hey, sea urchin," Edward called. "I have to leave for work early today. That jerk called in sick… again, so I have to cover his shift _and_ work mine."

"That sucks," Haytham said, drifting into the kitchen and getting of glass. He poured his customary post-school glass of milk. He sat down at the table. He had grown use to Jenny babysitting him, but when she left for London, his father's friends resumed their babysitting rotation, granted Jack Rackham was now on the roster. He did Saturday nights. His father locked the liquor cabinet on those nights. "Will you be able to make my fencing meet on Saturday?"

"I don't know sea urchin," Edward said with a sigh. "Hopefully, if work permits."

"Right," Haytham huffed, resting his cheek on his hand. "It's always if work permits this or if work permits that." Haytham glanced at his father as he sipped his milk. Edward groaned, running his hand through his hair. "Are you even going to be home for my birthday or is that another thing stipulated by work?"

"Jaysu, Haytham," Edward looked at his son. "I'm working two jobs and then some to keep a roof over your head, clothes on your back and food in your belly! I work my ass off so you can have nice things and so you can have fencing lessons and do things so you don't feel like a poor bugger compared to the other kids. I'm sorry I'm not there all the time lately, like how it used to be. You're just gonna have to get used to it."

Haytham didn't say anything for a long moment, he drank the rest of his milk. "You know," Haytham said after a while, eyes fixed on the glass. "Sometimes I think it would've been better if Mother and I had died that day. Then you wouldn't have to worry about anyone and just be a stupid lazy drunk all day long." Haytham looked away. "Clearly, I'm nothing but a burden to you, so I should I even be alive?"

Ben took that moment to swiftly exit the kitchen under the pretense that he needed to get something from his car. Edward stared at his son. He sighed, grabbed Haytham by both of his shoulders and leaned in real close, until their noses were barely touching and said idangerously low voice, "When I get home, you and I are going to have a very long and serious talk, man to man, about your attitude. Understand?"

"Yes Father," Haytham muttered, staring into Edward's blue eyes.

"Now, you be good for Uncle Ben," Edward said, straightening. He pulled on his jacket, zipping it up. "I'll be home by three. We'll talk in the morning, understand, Haytham."

"Yeah," Haytham said, dismissively heading to his room. Edward watched his son vanish behind the closing door.

* * *

Car horns blared abnormally loud in the post-midnight streets of Boston. There was no snow, but the air was frigid, and Edward shivered as he sat on the curb in his uniform, a bloodied rag in one hand. Blood dripped onto the freezing pavement. He got fired… for defending a woman from her bastard of a husband. His father brought him up right, teaching him to never hit a woman. Hopefully, the woman would wake up and realize her husband was a no-good fucker.

A cat yowled in an ally, a trash can fell over and a dog barked. More car horns blared and Edward heard drunken shouting somewhere down the block, but ignored it. He wiped away more of the blood. Hopefully, the man didn't remember he wanted to press charges in the morning. Not that Edward would get not trouble, he let the man beat him a bit first before punching back. "Fuck," he muttered, looking out at the lights of Boston. He heard footsteps on the pavement.

"Got fired again?" Thatch asked, cigarette dangling from his lip.

"Yeah," Edward sighed.

"What happened?"

"Some asshole was beating up his wife," Edward grumbled. "Also, he wouldn't shut up."

"So?"

"I offered to open his beer," Edward rubbed at the cut above his brow, "with his face."

"Ah."

"He wasn't too keen on that offering, so he punched me and told me to keep my nose out of his and his wife's business."

"Well, I won't be able to smooth things over with the manager, since I don't own this one, but I'll see what I can do about getting you another job," Thatch said, "how's your gig with Ádewalé?"

"Fine, for the most part," Edward sighed, then it dawned on him. "Oh god," he whispered, putting his face in his hands and running his fingers through his hair. "What am I going to tell Haytham? His birthday is almost here!"

"You're not," Thatch said.

"I have to tell him this time Thatch," Edward protested.

"No, you won't. I've told you before, I'll take care of things. We're buds. I got your back and you got mine."

"Yes, but—"

"No buts. Now, c'mon suck it up and get up. I'll drive you home, I'm sure that boy of yours is driving Hornigold up a wall."

"Heh, probably," Edward said, getting up. "Can you make a detour?"

"Too the booze store?"

"Yeah, or maybe three of them."

"Yeah, fine," Thatch agreed.

Edward got home that night, clutching a brown paper bag with a bottle of rum in it. Thatch got it for him, insisting that Edward spend the money on essential things. He found Ben and Haytham asleep on the whale couch. "Ben… Ben… Ben!" Edward said, nudging Ben with his toe. Ben jerked awake, but Haytham remained asleep.

"Ed, what are you doing home?" Ben asked, "It's… only one in the morning?"

"Got fired. Go on, get," Edward said, walking to the kitchen and setting the bottle of rum down. "I'll cook ya a steak."

"Nah, it's okay," Ben said, glancing at Haytham, "he's like a son to all of us, so I don't mind."

Edward smiled. "Thanks Ben, for helping out."

"What are friends for," Ben said, patting Edward on the back. "Call me if you need anything, see ya."

"Bye," Edward said, watching his friend leave. He sat down next to Haytham, pulling his son close. Haytham stirred, waking.

"Father?" Haytham asked, rubbing his eyes, his long hair falling around the tops of his shoulders. He stared at Edward sleepily for a few long moments before realizing that Edward had bloodied cuts on his face and a black eye. "Father, what happened!"

"Oh, nothing… nothing…" Edward said, rubbing Haytham's side. "I'm fine. I'll… I'll just be working solely at Ádewalé's for a bit. So… I'll be able to make it for your birthday and your fencing meet."

"Really… I…" Haytham hung his head. "I hope I didn't make you quit."

"Haytham," Edward said, "I love you very much… no matter what you say to me in anger, that'll never change." He kissed his son on the crown of his head. "But still. Don't think you can get away with saying something like that. You're grounded for two weeks and your bed time is now eight o'clock sharp."

"Eight o'clock, but Shay gets to stay up to nine and—"

"You aren't Shay. You are my son and I won't tolerate you disrespecting me like that, in front of my friends, even if everyone understands you said that out of frustration. So, you're grounded until your birthday. Do I make myself perfectly clear?"

"Crystal," Haytham sighed, a pout on his face. "I'm sorry."

"I know," Edward said, ruffling his hair. "You are a rascal, but you're mine and I love you. Now gimme a hug and head off to bed."

"Okay," Haytham said and hugged his father, hopped off the couch and headed to his room. He stopped in the doorway, hand on the doorframe. "Father," he turned to look at his father.

"Hm?"

"Don't get drunk," Haytham said, his voice soft, "I… I'm not stupid… I know what really happened."

"You do?"

Haytham nodded, a sad smile on his face. "So… please don't…"

"Go to bed son," Edward said gently. Haytham didn't protest further, heading into his room, closing the door with a soft click. Edward sighed, slumping forward. "Tessa… I wish you were here."

* * *

This part of the job she hated. She hated taking children away from overall decent homes, but the law is an amoral bitch, and doesn't care about good fathers and bad mothers or vice versa. Lucy Miles (née Stillman) hefted her purse up higher on her shoulder and flipped open her beige colored file. Inside was the smiling school picture of the now ten-year-old boy. "I have to do this on his birthday no less," Lucy muttered, feeling like the world's biggest bitch. "But… the law is the law," she told herself, but it didn't assuage her guilt.

"You ready ma'am?" one of the police officers asked. Lucy touched her bun, making sure no strains had gotten loose. No she wasn't ready, but she can't be pushing the off any longer. The man pressed the assault charges, the police investigated and dropped them, then an anonymous tip came about drug dealing and prostitution, causing the cops to open yet another investigation; and she got the file on her desk two days ago. She had another case to wrap up before starting on this one, thus the delay. So, now she was standing here, before the door of a small family that was about to have their world torn brutally apart.

She was never ready for this part. She rang the doorbell. "That's probably Ziio, she's always early!" the boy shouted from inside and Lucy felt her heart leap into her throat. The child in question was planning on hosting a birthday party. She didn't need more things compiling on her guilt.

"Alright, alright, I'll get the door," the father said. Lucy remembered him from her first meeting with this family. He was late, but overall a decent fellow, if a bit crusty around the edges. His heart was in the right place and she knew he clearly loved his child. She would have to have Desmond hold her tonight as she cried about ruining this man's life.

"It's just a job Lucy… just a job," she told herself, but again, that never fixed anything. She was destroying a family. The door opened and the man's smile morphed into a confused frown.

"Hello Miss Stillman," Edward Kenway said, "can I help you?"

"It's Mrs. Miles now," Lucy said, tugging out the paper she needed, "I'm here for Haytham."

* * *

 **YES! I GOT THIS CHAPTER DONE! LET THE ANGER, ANGST AND TEARS BEGIN! MUWHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAAH!**

 **I'm tired, so I'm going to go to bed after I post this. I know everyone reading this wants a sequel from Haytham's point of view of being a father to Connor. But my question is, who's interested in one with Ethan Frye as a single dad bringing up Jacob and Evie?**

 **Save an author; leave a review!**

 **-Nemo**


	21. Games for Dead Children

**Assassin's Creed (c) Ubisoft**

* * *

Edward didn't understand. The charges had been dropped, much to the asshole's frustration. Edward had defended himself, and the next day his former boss had been charged with running an interstate drug and prostitution ring. Something the cops would have never discovered without a helpful anonymous tip. Edward had questioned Thatch and Hornigold, but both men remained suspiciously mute on the subject. Granted, the police were still investigating both the assault claim and the drug-prostitution ring.

Edward reread the paper Lucy handed him, three times before looking up at the social worker. "I… I don't understand. The man… the assault charges have been dropped and—"

"Regardless, your former job is _still_ under investigation for interstate human trafficking, prostitution and drug dealing," Lucy said, "and by extension you are also involved because these charges of your former boss are felony charges."

"Yes, but I wasn't involved with that! Hell, I didn't even know! I'm just a bartender!" Edward said. "You… this seriously can't be enough to take my son away."

"You have a criminal record, Mr. Kenway—"

"For petty theft! I never spent more than two weeks in jail!"

"Regardless, a criminal record is a criminal record. Now—"

"You can't do this!" Edward protested, barring the way into his house. "I mean… if you must, can ya come back tomorrow? It's his birthday and—"

"No, Mr. Kenway, I can't." Lucy said, "Now please go back into the house, stand aside and let me and these fine officers do our job." Edward wanted to protest further, he wanted to fight back, slam the door, grab his gun, anything! Yet, the look of Lucy and the officer's faces made him deflate. If he fought, he would be defeated and he couldn't jeopardize losing Haytham forever. "Please," Lucy added, "Mr. Kenway, don't make this harder on yourself or your son." Edward nodded, side stepping and allowing Lucy and the officers to enter his house. He went off to the side with one of them.

* * *

Haytham trotted out of the kitchen to see Lucy and the police in the living room, his father near the guest bedroom. None of his friends were present. Haytham swallowed, looking about. "Hello…" he mumbled, feeling small and weak, and very, very scared.

"Hello Haytham," Lucy said, smiling at him. Haytham frowned, remembering her from that day in school. He took a step back. "I'm Lucy Miles and this if Officer Benden,"

"Father didn't touch me in a wrong way," Haytham seethed.

Lucy sighed, rubbing her forehead. "Let's go to your room and talk, Haytham," Lucy said. Haytham didn't want to but he looked at the cop and then at his father, who was talking to another one. He nodded, heart thumping against his ribs; he swallowed and nodded meekly. He led Lucy and Officer Benden to his room, all the while racking his brain about why Lucy was here. Then it hit him, the conversation he had with his father a week before his birthday; saying he wished he had died with his mother. "He's putting me up for adoption," Haytham whispered, shaking suddenly. He didn't really mean that. He loves his father, and he was just frustrated about the situation and the constant long hours. Haytham glanced over at the door, but the officer was blocking it, beefy hands on his belt.

"Haytham, I have to take you away," Lucy said.

"Why?" Haytham asked, wondering if Lucy will tell him that his father put him up for adoption.

"Your father…" Lucy sighed, "I'll explain it to you in the car."

"Why can't you explain it to me now?"

"Because it'll take too long, now why don't you pack some clothes, your pajamas and a few things you want to take with you, okay?" Lucy said. Haytham swallowed, his hands shaking.

"O-Okay," Haytham muttered, knowing it was true now that he was being put up for adoption. He was going to a scary orphanage with a rat face mean care-taker. Robotically, he got out his duffle bag from beneath his bed, filling it with some clothes, his pajamas, stuffed eagle and his pouch with journal and pen. Once it was packed, he zipped it up. Lucy grabbed it.

"C'mon Haytham," Lucy said, "let's go." She led the boy from his room, the burly officer following behind them.

Haytham bolted towards his father as soon as he left the room. "Father! Father, I'm sorry! Please don't send me away! Don't put me up for adoption! I'll keep my room clean! I won't complain about your long hours! I'll be good!" Haytham shouted, reaching for Edward. Benden's partner reacted quickly, grabbing Haytham around the middle. The boy screamed, hitting the cop, wriggling in the man's strong arms. "Father! Father!" Haytham screamed, reaching again for his father. "Daddy…" Haytham whimpered, staring at his father through tear-blurred vision, "don't let them take me away."

Edward sighed, looking away from his son, hands curling into fists, frustrated about the situation. If he failed to cooperate he could lose Haytham forever. "Shit!" Benden's partner cried, and Edward suddenly felt two little arms around his waist.

"Daddy… please! I'm sorry, I'm sorry, _I'm sorry!_ " Haytham screamed, hiding his face in Edward's side, clinging to Edward's clothes. Instinct took over, and Edward wrapped his arms around his sobbing son. He looked up at Lucy and the two cops.

"Please… don't do this," Edward whispered. "Don't take my son."

Lucy sighed, rubbed her forehead, glanced at her watch, before marching over to the father and son. "I'm sorry," Lucy said, "but I'm merely doing my job." She grabbed Haytham's arm and sharply pulled the boy away.

"No! No! No! Let me go! _Father! Father! Father!_ " Haytham screamed, a banshee's howl, tears cascading down his ruddy cheeks. Edward held onto his son, but Lucy was oddly strong, and Haytham's hand slipped through his. Edward felt the tears roll down his cheeks then, watching helplessly as the two cops positioned themselves between him and his son. He slumped to his knees, watching as the door closed on Haytham's heart-wrenching screams.

* * *

Haytham huddled into the backseat of the highly forgettable car. The cop had put his duffle bag in the trunk. Haytham buckled himself in and watched as Lucy adjusted the mirror in order to glance at him. She thanked the cops and they drove off. Haytham sniffed, wiping at his nose and eyes. "Worst birthday ever," he muttered glumly, staring out of the window. It began to rain.

"Everything is going to be okay, Haytham." Lucy said, smiling up at him with that fake smile she uses in order to make him feel safe. He huffed, folding his arms over his chest. "It's not for long. I promise."

"My father loves me!" Haytham seethed, sniffing slightly. Just thinking about his father caused him to cry. "He takes good care of me!"

"I know, Haytham," Lucy sighed, "I know. In all honesty, your father is one of the better single-parents that I deal with. He clearly loves you and takes really good care of you."

"Then why are you taking me away!" Haytham protested, tears pooling in his eyes. "Don't understand!"

"I'm taking you away because the place where your father use to work is involved in some really… bad things and your father did some… not so good things before you were born, and because of those things I have to take you away."

"Will I be able to go home?" Haytham asked.

"Yes," Lucy said, "It's not forever. We don't like situations that last forever. Your father is going to have to prove he can provide for you, that nothing adverse was going on in your home, and that he wasn't involved in the charges his former boss is facing."

"That sounds… complicated," Haytham whispered.

"It is, and it's going to take maybe a month or longer."

"C-Can he visit me?"

"Supervised visits, you're also won't be allowed to go to school during this time, or outside during this time."

"What? But what about my fencing meets and my school work and my friends!" Haytham protested.

"Someone will drop your school work off," Lucy said, "besides, Christmas is almost here so you won't be in school for that much longer."

"Christmas…" Haytham whispered, realizing that he'd be spending his first Christmas away from his father.

"Haytham," Lucy said. Haytham looked up at her, watching her eyes through the rear view mirror. "I promise you, that I'll do everything in my power to get you back to your father as swiftly as the law allows."

"Okay," he replied, though he didn't believe her. He glanced out the window, heaved a great sigh and went over the things he brought with him. "I forgot my toothbrush," he said.

"Oh… erm, we'll stop at the drug store then and get you a toothbrush and some toothpaste okay?" Lucy asked, looking at Haytham as she stopped at the stop light.

"I guess," he replied dejectedly, hoping the ploy would get her to turn the car around and take him back. Then he could hide in his closest and Lucy won't be able to find him and she'll leave and he could be with his father again.

They stopped off at the drug store. Lucy kept a hand on his shoulder as they walked down the aisle. He picked up the cheapest toothbrush and toothpaste they had, and watched as the social worker bought the two items. Haytham was led out and back into the car to continue the journey to wherever Lucy was taking him.

It was another neighbourhood, in the same school district that Haytham went too, but in the rich kid's area. "You're lucky Haytham," Lucy said, "you got one of the best foster parents in the system. In fact, there's another boy staying with him too."

"Is he like me?"

"No, he's been a ward of the state since he was five," Lucy said. "He's a nice boy."

"Uh-huh," Haytham replied dully, looking at the house. It was dark, so Haytham couldn't tell what color it was, but he guessed it was blue. Lucy parked, got out of the car and popped the trunk, pulling out Haytham's duffle bag. Haytham followed her up to the doorstep. Lucy rang the doorbell, taking a step back, so Haytham was before her. The door opened to reveal a man, with short brown hair, a wide mouth and shift eyes. Haytham thought he looked like a dancing monkey emoji.

"Ah, Mrs. Miles," the man said. "Welcome, welcome! Come in, please!" he turned to the stairs, "Crawford! Crawford, come down here and meet your new… erm… brother."

"Thank you, Mr. Birch, for taking Haytham in," Lucy said.

"Oh, it's no trouble," Birch said, with a smile. "I'm sure he and Crawford will get along famously.

"Great," Lucy said, placing her hand on Haytham's shoulder. Haytham shrugged it off. "This is Haytham Kenway. He'll be staying with you for about a month. I suspect his father will want to regain custody of him as fast as possible, plus his father keeps a good home, as far as I can tell. I don't foresee any major issues that'll hinder Haytham's father from regaining custody."

"Excellent, that's always good to hear," Birch said and put his hand on Haytham's other shoulder, "I understand it's tough getting uprooted so suddenly, but you must remember it's only temporary, especially if what's in your file and Mrs. Miles say about your father."

"Right," Haytham said, moving his shoulder away from Birch's grip. The man was creepy. Not in a predatory way but in an extremely nerdy fashion.

"I'm Reginald Birch, you can call me Reginald or Reggie if you prefer," Birch said, a broad smile on his face. "Crawford! Don't be rude!" Birch shouted, but the other boy didn't appear. "Ah, well… he must be in his rebellious phase. Come into the kitchen Haytham. Mrs. Miles, I can sign the papers and you can be on your way…" Birch rambled as Lucy and Haytham shuffled in. Haytham closed the door and started when he saw a black haired boy standing at the bottom of the steps.

"Who are you?" the boy asked, the question coming out in a sneer. Haytham bristled, but kept his expression neutral. He had always been average in physical prowess, though fencing had increase both his speed and strength. He preferred to use his wits to get out of fights. He straightened, clasping his hands behind his back.

"Haytham Kenway," Haytham said with tight politeness, glancing at the other boy. "You?"

The boy smirked, folding his arms over his chest, oozing arrogance. "Crawford Starrick."

* * *

Edward heard a car horn blare, as the door open, a gust of chill wind coming in. "Edward, Edward!" Mary shouted, tumbling in. Edward glanced up at his friend, he held a glass of rum by the lip, the ice clinking against the glass. Mary's eyes fell to the open bottle of rum and the glass in Edward's hand. "Edward, how much have you drank?"

"A few sips," Edward muttered, "I'm not lying Mary. I don't even have the energy to drink."

"It's true Mary," Ben said, coming out of the kitchen. "Thatch's on his way back. He and Ádewalé went out to get Chinese. Jack is also on his way. Where's Anne?"

"Still at work," Mary sighed, sitting next to Edward. "Ed, don't drink."

"I appreciate you guys all coming, but I really want to be alone."

"Not happening, mate," Ben said, pulling up a chair, "leaving you alone is the last thing we want to do right now."

"We didn't leave you when Tessa die, and we aren't leaving you now," Mary said, putting a hand on Edward's arm. "We're here for you, Edward."

"Thanks guys," Edward muttered. The door opened, letting more cold air to come in. Thatch, Ádewalé and Jack walked in.

"That smells good," Mary said, going to grab a bag.

"Edward, ya doin' alright?" Ádewalé asked. Edward looked up at the big black mechanic, and raised his hand. "Ya didn't drink da entire bottle," Ádewalé commented.

"I'm not in the mood," Edward muttered, and set his drink on the table. Jack grabbed it and drained in two gulps. Everyone stared at him.

"What?" Jack muttered, "Don't wanna waste good rum."

"So, what's the plan to get Haytham back?" Ben asked.

"I can always convince some people to reverse the—"

"No," Edward said standing up. "No, no, no! There is no plan! There is no way other than the legal way to get Haytham back!" Edward said, walking up to the wall. He rested his head against the cool surface. "I appreciate all your help, but I can't… there is nothing I can do."

"Edward," Mary sighed, "you can't lose hope."

"Hope? I have no more fucking hope left, Mary!" Edward rounded on her. "My wife is dead and they took my son!"

"What about Jenny?" Ben pointed out.

"She's in London, Ben," Thatch grumbled.

"Oh, yeah, forgot."

"Plus, Jenny is a grown womon," Ádewalé added. Ben agreed with a nod.

"I still think I can twist a few arms," Thatch grumbled, stroking his beard, unlit cigarette dangling from his mouth. Mary reached for it, but Thatch pulled away from her. "I'm not gonna light it Mary."

"I don't need any more help!" Edward shouted, turning to face his friends. "It's because your guys' help," he said, pointing to Ben and Thatch, "that they took my son away!"

"Fuck, Kenway," Thatch said, looking at his friend. "We're sorry, but we're upset about this too. Haytham is like a son to all of us. I mean, all of us here have babysitting days scheduled. We all feel like they've taken him from _us_! Not just you."

"But he's my kid!" Edward shouted. "Haytham is my son!" He punched the wall. "That fucking bitch took _my son_!" Edward screamed, punching the wall. "I want my son! I want my son! _I want my son!_ " He broke through the plaster, cutting his knuckles, before slumping down, shoulders shaking with his sobs. Mary stood up, going into the kitchen, and coming out with a rag. She sat down next to Edward and doctored his knuckles.

"God Edward," Mary said, "with that face, someone might think your puppy got shot."

"Ha ha," Edward sniffed.

"Listen," Mary said, "here's what you are going to do. You are going to buck up, clear your head, eat some dinner, and tomorrow you are going to look for a new job, talk to the child services people, see what you need to do to get Haytham back and fucking do it."

"Mary…"

"Or do I need to call Caroline?" Mary hissed. Edward shot up, eyes narrowing.

"Don't you fucking dare drag Caroline into this shit, Mary! I swear to god."

"Then get up off your sorry ass and work on getting Haytham back! Not sitting punching your goddamn wall!" Mary snarled. Edward looked away, sighing heavily.

"Alright," he said, "alright. I'll do it." He stood up and looked at his gathered friends. "Let's get Haytham back."

* * *

 **Hey, I warned you lot that this chapter was going to be heartbreaking.**

 **Oh look, Birch! Don't worry, he's a nice guy, high school principal and obsessed with unicorns. And look! Another mini-Templar Grand Master!**

 **Save an author; leave a review!**

 **Nemo**


	22. A Father's Love is a Sacrifice

**Assassin's Creed (c) Ubisoft**

* * *

 _Edward resented the fact that it was sunny. It should not be sunny, not on this day. Nature should reflect the darkness in his heart and the sky should weep so his own tears could hide among the rain. Alas, nature stubbornly refused to be depressed, despite the fact that he was._

 _Edward also wanted the fucking priest to shut the hell up! Tessa was dead and she didn't care what the Lord said or cares about. Hell she didn't even care that she left behind a husband and a son. The dead didn't care about such things, they didn't care about those they left behind. The dead were heartless sons of bitches, the lot of them. The priest finished his rambling_ _—_ finally! _— Haytham dressed up in an infant's suit and very unhappy about the entire thing began to squirm in Edward's arms. Ádewalé, Thatch, Jack, Ben, Charlie, and that one bloke from Tessa's office, slowly began to lower the glossy black casket with white roses atop it, into the ground. Anne got up to the mic and in her sweet Irish lilted voice began to sing_ The Parting Glass _._

 _Edward didn't gasp in big heaving sobs. He stood there, watching as his wife's cold body slipped further and further away. The tears came unbidden, rolling down his cheeks in silence. He wanted to scream, to shout, to curse her and God and the universe and_ everything! _Hell, he wanted to join her. Maybe he should, he had enough booze back at the house to drink himself to death. It would be so easy too: Turn the TV on and get the rum and just drink until everything became numb and the pain finally, finally, went away. Nobody would care, hell, they'd probably understand!_

 _He felt a touch on his cheek._

 _Edward turned his head and saw Haytham, staring at him with slate colored eyes, the wind ruffling his baby fine golden brown hair. He sucked on his lower lip and patted Edward's cheek again._

 _Right… Haytham… his son. His son would care, his son would be all alone, an orphan, unable to understand why his parents left him. Edward put his hand on his son's head. "Don't worry Haytham," Edward whispered, "I won't abandon you. I promise nothing bad will ever happen to you." It was a promise he meant to keep._

* * *

He kept that promise, right up until yesterday, when Lucy took his son. "How ya doing?" Anne asked, coming to sit with him on the couch, a mug of tea in her hands. Edward sighed, staring blankly at the morning news on the TV. The determination he felt last night had dwindled upon waking. Now he just felt exhausted.

"I just feel empty inside," Edward said, "like some great hand just ripped out all my inners."

Anne nodded, sipping her tea. "I know. I felt that way after Sean died."

"Sean?"

"My son… Mary never did tell you… did she?" Anne asked, at Edward's befuddled look Anne smiled, a sad smile. "Thought not. Mary… she's not the one to dwell on such things. We… we wanted a family, so we used a fertility clinic. I got pregnant, and carried to term… we had a little boy… Sean… for about a week before he died suddenly." Anne bit her lip. "We… we don't know how… he… he just didn't wake up the next morning."

"Oh, Anne… I'm sorry," Edward whispered. Anne wiped her eyes.

"Don't be Edward. It happened… a good while ago. Mary and I have learned to cope with our grief… we eventually tried again… once the pain stopped being so raw… Mary ended up miscarrying. We decided that it was God's way of saying we weren't meant to be parents."

"That's bullshit! Just because you two are lovers—"

"Edward," Anne said, putting a hand on his arm. "We know, and we thank you. Why do you think we dote on Haytham? He may not be our son, but we're the mother he'll never have." Anne's smile was sad and kind.

"Do you think… I can get him back?" Edward asked softly, staring into his coffee cup. After Tessa's death he easily drank almost every night. Until Mary locked the liquor cabinet and took the key with her, telling him that was no way to raise a child. That's when he started drinking coffee. It was a poor substitute. Now, Haytham was gone and Edward didn't feel much like drinking. He didn't even think he had the energy _to_ drink.

"Of course Edward," Anne said, rubbing Edward's arm. "That social worker said it wasn't forever and you are a good father."

"I try Anne, I try."

"That's all any of us can do," Anne agreed, looking up when the door opened. "Mary, hi." Anne waved at her wife.

"Edward," Mary said, closing the door and eyeing her friend. "Why are you still not dressed?"

"'Lo, Mary," Edward greeted, raising his coffee up to her. "I just… Haytham's gone and—"

"He's not gonna fall out of the sky into your lap! We had a plan last night to get him back!" Mary shouted, marching up to Edward. "Where you encouraging him Anne?"

"Mary," Anne said, getting up and steering Mary into the kitchen. "Look, I know you are trying to help and—"

"Don't lecture me, Anne! He needs to get his act together if he wants to get Haytham back, I'm just trying to help."

"Edward knows that, and he understands that, but acting like a psychotic drill sergeant isn't going to make him move any faster," Anne said, "he's still processing everything. You know he's determine to get Haytham back."

"He's just sitting there in his undershirt and boxers like a lump on the log!" Mary hissed, gesturing to Edward.

"Uhm… I can still hear you two," Edward called from his seat on the couch.

"Edward!" Anne and Mary shouted. Edward sipped his coffee. "But my point is that if you keep nagging him, he'll just shut down. I mean… even I can't really believe Haytham's gone. I keep expecting him to walk through that door…" Anne muttered, glancing at the front door.

"Well he's not," Mary snipped. "That stupid social worker bitch took him, and if Edward doesn't change his course then he'll never get him back."

"Mary, please just relax. Let's get something to eat then we'll do—"

"No! Edward needs to get his ass in gear, Anne. I'm not going to lose another child or so help me I—"

"Sean is dead, Mary!" Anne shouted. "And so is that baby you lost. They are dead. Haytham is Edward's son, not ours. Please… I know it hurts and I know it's frustrating. I live with the pain every day, but we can't… we can't let it spill over now. Not when Edward needs us the most."

Mary turned to face Anne. "Just before you forgot doesn't mean I won't."

Anne's face drained of color. "How dare you say that I forgot our son's death! I was the one that found him. In his crib… as if he was sleeping… just like he was when I checked on him earlier. I found our son dead Mary!" Anne hissed.

Edward sighed, getting up from the couch and walking over to the two women. "Hey, Anne, Mary," he said, setting his coffee cup down on the counter. "Stop it." He hugged them both. "Don't fight. Please don't fight. I can't take it right now. I'm sorry Sean is dead… I'm sorry you lost that baby Mary, but…" he looked at them, "I'm barely hanging on. I just want to… it feels so hopeless and if you two start fighting then… well, I don't want to think about it."

Mary and Anne sighed, returning Edward's hug. "Sorry, Edward… it's just… with Haytham gone…" Mary trailed off, unable to meet Edward's gaze.

"We remember our struggles with… having a family," Anne whispered. Edward nodded, running his hand through his hair.

"No. I understand," Edward said, letting them go and grabbing his coffee cup. He trained the contents in two gulps. "Alright. Let's do this," Edward said.

"Good, get dress and we're going shopping!" Mary said, a wicked good grin on her face. Edward swallowed, not sure if this was a good thing or a bad thing.

"Anne?" he looked at Anne, who chuckled.

"We're going to get you a suit."

 _Yes,_ Edward decided, _this is hell. I've entered hell._ Thankfully, he was spared by a knock on the door. He grabbed his robe off the arm of the couch, hastily put it on before answering the door. "Ziio," he said, surprised to see the little Mohawk girl. "What brings you here?"

"Is Haytham home?" Ziio asked. "I saw a strange care outside your house yesterday and it drove off. Mom said you and Haytham were having issues, so… we left," Ziio said, looking at her feet. "Can you tell him I'm sorry I missed his party."

Edward smiled sadly, rubbing his face. "Of course sweetheart. He was really looking forward to seeing you."

"Really?" Ziio perked up, "I mean. Oh. Cool. Uh… here can you give him this? It's his birthday present." Ziio said, handing Edward the wrapped box. "It's a dreamcatcher. I made it myself."

"I'm sure he'll love it," Edward agreed, accepting the gift. The car across the street honked its horn.

"I gotta go," Ziio said, "bye Mr. Kenway! Tell Haytham I stopped by!" Ziio waved and trotted down the driveway, not hearing Edward bid her farewell. She stopped at the edge, dug into her pocket and pulled out a scrap of paper. It had her name, new phone number and new address scribbled on it. She glanced back at Haytham's house, then at the car where her mother was waiting. Ziio tucked the bit of paper into her pocket and rejoined her mother in the car.

* * *

Haytham sighed, opening his eyes and staring at the unfamiliar white ceiling overhead. It was still there, damn it. Haytham closed his eyes again, willing himself to wake up in his own bed, his father making breakfast with _The Eagles_ playing in the background. Maybe Jenny will ping on skype to wish him a happy belated birthday. Everything will go back to normal, the way it should be. All he had to do was open his eyes and he'll be home.

Haytham opened his eyes again. The ceiling still the unfamiliar one. The bed hard and uncomfortable. The sheets smelled like laundry soap. Only the things he brought from home where familiar. "Let's try it again," Haytham muttered to himself, squeezing his stuffed eagle and closing his eyes. "There's no place like home, there's no place like home, there's not place like home…" he muttered. If it worked for Dorothy then it may work for him.

The door to his room opened up. "Hey, Nathan, are you gonna ever get out of bed? Reginald as breakfast ready."

Haytham snapped his eyes open and sat up. Starrick leaning into his room, one hand on the door handle the other on the frame. "It's _Haytham_."

"Right," Starrick rolled his eyes, "but get out of bed Heath-tham."

"It's _Haytham!_ How many times to I have to tell you that?" Haytham shouted, flinging the covers off. He marched up to Starrick, who snickered and closed the door with a bang. Haytham yanked it back open and yelled, "and stay out of my room!" before slamming the door. He slid down the door, hugging his knees, his lose hair hiding his face. He sniffed, forcing back the tears, though a few came unbidden. There was no longer a point in trying to will himself back home. He stood, dressed, made this bed before heading downstairs.

Starrick was sitting there, watching Saturday morning cartoons, while Birch was at the stove humming as he cooked. "Morning," Haytham greeted, his tone melancholy. Birch turned around, a wide grin on his face.

"Good morning! Good morning!" he said. He was dressed in a burgundy button down shirt and khaki slacks with a lilac apron. Haytham's eyes grew wide, the color combination was horrid, but upon the apron there were neon pink unicorns with little sequins for eyes and hooves. Haytham looked at the pancakes, shaped like prancing unicorns. A mix of syrup and melted butter oozed off the horns.

"Uh… Unicorns?" Haytham asked.

"Oh, yes," Birch said, removing another unicorn shaped pancake. Haytham took his seat at the table, accepting the plate of newly made pancakes. He poured syrup over them and sliced some butter. Haytham pushed the butter around the pancake, watching it melt. He cut off the head of the unicorn and ate it. "I'll be showing you around the house. I also made arrangements to get whatever school work you'll be missing from your teacher. I'm a principal at the high school, so I'll be able to pick it up after school. Don't worry, you won't fall behind, I hired a tutor. Mr. Fayling, and old friend of mine."

"Great," Haytham muttered.

"But it's only for a few days, Christmas break starts soon, end of next week?" Birch asked.

"Something like that," Haytham muttered, watching Birch set a glass of orange juice before his plate.

"Cheer up Haytham," Birch said, taking the pan off the heat and turning the stove off. He sat down next to Haytham and patted him on the back. "Everything will work out. It's a pity that this happened so close to Christmas, but I'm sure you'll see your father again. I can't imagine him wanting you to be a ward of the state."

"Or you can just give me back," Haytham said, "my father is a good man. He takes really good care of me. He always had!"

"I understand Haytham," Birch sighed, sipping his coffee, "but I don't make the rules. Hurry up and finish your breakfast. I want to show you the rest of the house."

"Fine," Haytham said, cutting up his unicorn pancakes. "Can I see my father for Christmas?"

"I'll talk to Mrs. Miles, see what she has to say," Birch said, picking up the empty plates. Haytham made himself eat a few more bites before handing the plate off to Birch. "You know, not eating will only delay things, and possibly get you sent to another foster home."

"Thanks for letting me know," Haytham muttered, "but I'm just not hungry." He rested his elbows on the table and placed his head in his hands, watching Birch move around the kitchen. It took the man only a few minutes to straighten everything up.

"Alright, I'll show you the rest of the house." Birch said, taking off that horrible apron. "This way."

Haytham sighed, following the man about, he glanced over his shoulder as Starrick turned off the TV. The other boy followed them. Most of the house, Haytham didn't really care about as it was like any other house, though there were a fair amount of unicorn statues and unicorn motifs about, which Haytham found odd. "This is my room, and you already know where yours is, and this room is Crawford's," Birch said pointing to each room.

"And this room?" Haytham asked, pointing to the plain white door. It seemed odd that the door was closed.

"Oh, that room is my private study," Birch said, a broad grin appeared on his face. "See," he opened the door. Haytham's jaw dropped, for in the room was every possible thing relating to unicorns. From _My Little Pony_ and _The Last Unicorn_ , to porcelain statues and a large painting.

"Is that you?" Haytham asked, pointing to the painting of a man with flowing brown hair, a toga about his waist, astride a majestic looking unicorn.

"Yes," Birch said with a touch of pride in his voice. "That is me, and it's my favorite painting. Come have a closer look." Birch lead Haytham to the painting. "It's magnificent."

 _It's stupid_ , Haytham thought. "Uh… yeah, very erm… regal."

"Oh, you think so? I do too," Birch said.

"Why did you have to encourage him," Starrick hissed behind Haytham, who turned and shot the other boy a glare. "Now he'll be rambling about it for a good twenty minutes."

"Well, what was I supposed to say? What I honestly thought?"

"Anything is better than listening to him ramble on about unicorns."

"…and they mocked me!" Birch said, impassioned, he turned to Haytham and grabbed him by his shoulders, giving him a little shake. "They mocked me Haytham! These men that would have been my scientific colleagues! They said that unicorns are fairytales, and that they were never real! I left the doctorate program after that, I could not in good judgement continue to pursue my education in zoology if I was going to get _laughed at_ by members of academia!"

"See, I toldja," Starrick whispered, though there was a smirk on his face. Haytham glowered at him, knowing Starrick was enjoying Haytham's suffering too much.

"…I'll prove them all wrong!" Birch spun away then, arms akimbo as he stared at his unicorn painting. "I'll find a real unicorn… a _live_ unicorn and show them all! They'll grovel at my feet and my name will go down in biology books! Reginald Birch, the man that proved the existence of unicorns!"

Haytham covered up his laughter with a hasty snort. He clapped his hand over his mouth, realizing that Birch was serious about that. That he was convinced fully of his own delusion. _And Lucy said he was the best foster parent in the system._ Haytham made a mental note to talk to Lucy when she came and checked up on him. There had to be something about being unhealthily obsessed with unicorns to qualify as child endangerment. "Is that a narwh—"

"Don't!" Starrick hissed, pulling Haytham away. "That's a 'unicorn horn'," Starrick said, jerking his head to the encased narwhal horn below the painting.

"But it's a narwhal horn. I've seen a picture of one before," Haytham pointed out.

"It's a unicorn horn, and you will refer to it as a unicorn horn, unless you want to listen to Birch lecture on how they are just mistaken and that the narwhale is the aquatic form of a unicorn."

"I thought a unicorn was a horned horse?"

"Do not ask me to unravel the mind of a madman," Starrick huffed, heading out of the room. "You wanna come? He's done with the tour for now."

"Won't he notice we're gone?" Haytham asked, looking back at Birch, who was still lecturing about how he was going to prove the entire scientific community wrong.

"Nah, he'll be at it for a few more minutes. I'm going to watch TV."

"Well, I'm going to go back to my room," Haytham said, following Starrick out of the unicorn room. He watched as the other boy headed down the stairs, before he headed to his room. Haytham closed the door behind him. He walked over to his bag and fished out the leather pouch Ziio made him. He traced the beadwork, smiling as he thought about her. He wondered what she was doing now. She'd probably laugh at Birch and tell him flat out that he's an idiot for believing in unicorns.

He pulled his journal out, along with his pen, flipped to a new page and began to write. Though this time, after the date, he started his entry with _Dear Ziio…_

* * *

"How's it going, princess?" Edward asked, sitting down before the laptop. Jenny was on the other end, blond hair pulled back into a ponytail. "You going to come home for Christmas?"

"Of course, Dad, though I'll be visiting Mum first, then you and Haytham," Jenny said. "How is Haytham, by the way? I got some cool books on swords and fencing for him. I'm sorry I didn't send one for his birthday, but there was no time for me to go down to the post office."

"Haytham… Haytham's fine, Jenny," Edward said, rubbing his face. "I'm sure he won't mind it being late. You're his sister, so he'll forgive you."

"Are you alright, Dad? You look tired."

"I'm always tired, sweetheart, working nights."

"Well, you look more tired than usual. Is everything alright," Jenny asked, "you aren't keeping secrets from me now."

Edward chuckled, remembering when Caroline would ask him such questions. "You look so much like your mother."

"Dad," Jenny chided, a blush tinting her cheeks. "Don't try to change the subject!"

"With her wit too."

"Dad!"

Edward laughed. "Alright," he finally caved, "there is something wrong."

"Oh, no. Did Haytham break his arm?"

"No, no. Haytham's hale and hearty…" Edward sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I lost my job a few weeks ago, bar fight I got involved in. Jackass pressed charges, they were dropped, but my former employer is being investigated for interstate drug dealing, human trafficking and prostitution. Social services came and took Haytham away."

"What? No!" Jenny shouted, hands covering her mouth. "How could they take Haytham away!"

"Because I have a criminal record and I'm going to be interviewed to see if I had anything to do with these charges my former boss is facing. It's all one big fucking mess Jen."

"Oh, Daddy…"

"You haven't called me daddy in years," Edward whispered. "Do you remember, you probably don't, but during divorce, your mother had to make a trip to visit her folks up in New York. She didn't want to take you, I think you were around three or four, so I got to watch you for a few weeks. We had tea parties every day, and I told you stories of pirate princes saving princesses."

"Did you dress up for these tea parties?"

"Of course," Edward said, throwing back his shoulders a bit. "I was Mrs. Merryweathers. I even let you do my hair and make-up. I think Thatch has a few pictures from then, I'll ask and see if I can't send them to ya."

"Dad, I don't need to remember embarrassing baby photos," Jenny laughed. "You hang in there okay? I'm sure you'll get Haytham back."

"I've only really had a handful of worse days in my life. The day your mother left me, the day I lost joint custody of you, and the day Tessa died."

"And now you have the day they took Haytham away to add to the depressing list," Jenny mumbled.

"Yeah," Edward agreed. "You have a pretty good accent now Jenny. Lost your New York twang."

"I know," Jenny chuckled, "I have to come home and get my Yank back on."

"Well, I'm glad you're enjoying London."

"Oh it's amazing, Dad! Will you and Haytham come and visit this summer?"

"Maybe," Edward said, "I should let you go. I'm sure it's getting late over there."

"Not that late, but I do have school tomorrow," Jenny said. She kissed her fingers and pressed them to the screen. Edward did the same. "Bye Daddy, I'll call tomorrow."

"Right, text me so I'll know."

"Of course. Anyway, night," Jenny said and broke the connection. Edward sighed, closing the program and the laptop before standing up. He showered, brushed his teeth, trimmed his beard, and stared at the suit hanging on his door. Tomorrow, he had an interview, thanks to Thatch, at a hotel that Thatch had… dealings with. Ádewalé made arrangements for someone to cover his shift at the auto shop. Edward glanced at the suit once more. Tomorrow… things will look better tomorrow.

* * *

 **Long chapter is long. And depressing.**

 **So, I realized that I should've included Jenny as a little girl in the first chapters, then introduced Haytham. Alas, it didn't happen. Oh well. So, I'm planning a short spin-off series called "Edward Kenway's Guide to Child Rearing: The Jenny Chronicles" or something like that. Which will cover the few weeks, Jenny was in Edward's care when Caroline was out of town. Of course, this plan could just turn into a very long one shot. Not sure yet.**

 **Also, Birch and his unicorn room finally make an appearance. I tried making this an Edward focus chaptered but… irunno. I just really enjoy writing Haytham. More Edward and Haytham in the next chapter. Next chapter will have Starrick being a little shit.**

 **Save an author; leave a review.**

 **If you don't, Connor will cry. Do you seriously want to be the reason for Connor's tears? Hmm!**

 **-Nemo**


	23. Ghosts Left Behind

**Assassin's Creed (c) Ubisoft**

* * *

Snow drifted down from the grey clouded sky, fat fluffy flakes that landed on her nose and melted. Ziio sat in the snow, staring at the crumbled piece of notebook. She shook it, dislodging the snow before it made the ink run. On it was her name, her new address and the new phone number. It was for Haytham, so they can keep in touch when she moved.

Only Haytham hadn't shown up for school for that past four days, and it was Friday before Christmas break. Still no sign of him. Ziio was getting nervous. "Where are you Haytham," she whispered as she pushed some hair out of her eyes. She still wore the crackjack ring he gave her, remembering his promise to marry her when they were all grown up. Yet, if he can't even show up for school how could she expect him to keep even that promise.

Ziio looked up when she heard the crunch of snow beneath boots. She gasped, her mouth making a little O in surprise. "Kaniehtí:io, are you alright?"

"You can say my name," Ziio said, a bit surprised, "without butchering it."

"My father studies the Kanien'kehá:ka," William said with a shrug, he sat down next to her. "And I'm often helping him, so I've picked up the language."

Ziio felt a smile tugging at her lips. She didn't know that about William Johnson. "I didn't know your father studied the Kanien'kehá:ka or our tongue or that you knew it." Ziio looked at William. "I always just thought you were one of Haytham's dorky friends. Granted you and Shay were probably the better of his group."

"Thanks," William said, beaming a little, "Haytham speaks highly of you when we get him to talk about you."

"He does?" Ziio asked, feeling her cheeks tint. "What does he say?"

William smiled. "Well, he says you're smart, kind, uh… he did say you're abusive at times, since you kept throwing things at him." Ziio giggled. "And he likes you," William said, inching closer to her. "Really likes you."

"He really likes me?" Ziio asked, her voice hitching in her throat. She turned to face William, their noses touching. Ziio felt her cheeks heat, and watched as William's eyes widened. They pulled away and William coughed awkwardly into his hand. "Haytham said that? For real?"

"Uh, yeah," William said, staring at the snow. "He does. Why?"

Ziio sighed, shoulders slumping as she kicked at the snow. "He's been absent a long time," Ziio said.

"I know, we're all wondering what's up with that. Charles has taken over the role of leader in Haytham's absence."

"Oh joy," Ziio muttered, rolling her eyes. "How's that going?"

"Eh? Haytham's a better leader. We've gotten into more fights with the Assassins since Charles became our leader," William admitted. "Haytham knew how to pick his battles, plus Achilles is afraid of Haytham for some reason. Shay and Haytham won't say why though…"

Ziio smirked. "Haytham is protective of those he considers friends."

"He's really protective of you," William added. "We all know not to say anything bad about you. Even Charles knows. Though I think Charles is convinced you lurk behind trees."

"Heh."

William glanced at his watch. "We should start heading back, recess is almost over," William said. Ziio sighed. She didn't want to go back to class. She sat behind Haytham's desk and seeing it empty bothered her. There was a tin British soldier and a tin Native American woman in his desk that she could see, they were tucked up in the corner to the left, and Haytham had positioned them in such the way that they were looking into each other's eyes. They had made up silly stories with them one rainy day during indoor recess. William stood. "I'm going to head back."

"Alright, I'll be staying here," Ziio said, shaking the paper in her hand again to clear it from the snow. She had forgotten to do it while talking to William, so some of the ink began to bleed.

"Okay," William said and began to walk towards the building. He was waylaid by Cecily and Hope; Ziio's eyes widened when he pointed her out to the two girls. They rushed over, cheeks flushed.

"Ziio," Hope said, breathless. "Thank goodness we found you before recess ended."

"You're impossible to find," Cecily added.

"What do you two want?" Ziio asked, she was no longer in the mood to talk to anyone, as the prospect of returning to class was looming over her and that made her angry and sad. Hope's face fell and Cecily wrinkled her nose.

"Jeez," Cecily snipped, "you don't have to be so bratty, Ziio."

"Sorry," Ziio looked away, before standing up. "I should start heading back, we need to line up soon." Ziio began to walk away but Cecily grabbed her arm.

"Wait, Ethan knows where Haytham is."

"What?" Ziio asked, her heart fluttering with excitement. Maybe she could see Haytham after all before she moved, and tell him and give him her new contact information, maybe even tell him that they can probably meet at the library or the park once things get settled. "Where is he? Ooh, Imma gonna punch him in that stupidly perfect nose of his!"

Hope and Cecily giggled behind their hands before sobering quickly. "That's the thing," Cecily added, "only Ethan can go to where Haytham is."

"Why?" Ziio asked, frowning. "How come Ethan can but I can't! Haytham and I are… well, we're really good friends!"

"Because Ethan goes there to speak to stupid Crawford Starrick," Cecily grumbled, folding her arms over her chest.

"Who's that?"

"Crawford Starrick and Ethan are a part of the same martial arts club," Cecily said. "It's not a part of this school," Cecily said. "So, if you have anything you want to give to Haytham, Ethan is going to ask his mom to swing by Starrick's house today after school. He can give whatever you want to Haytham."

"Yeah," Ziio said, "here. Tell Ethan to give Haytham this." Ziio pressed the piece of paper into Cecily's hands. "I'm moving and that's my new contact information. Okay?"

"Alright," Cecily said, folding the piece of paper and slipping it into her pocket. "I better run then, to get it to Ethan before the bell rings. Bye Ziio," Cecily said with a wave and sprinted off across the playground.

"Don't worry, Ziio," Hope said, squeezing Ziio's hand. "Cecily will get it to Ethan."

"Yeah, I know," Ziio whispered.

"You know, Cecily and Ethan remind me of you and Haytham," Hope said, as she began to walk back towards the building.

"How? Ethan's a jerk half the time," Ziio pointed out.

Hope smiled. "Yeah, and you are rough around the edges too. But you always smile for Haytham and Ethan always smiles for Cecily."

Ziio snorted, knowing that Hope was right, she did always smile for Haytham.

* * *

Cecily frowned when she couldn't find Ethan. The bell was going to ring soon and she had to find him before then. "Watch out!" she heard someone shout. Cecily spun face whomever had shouted. Cecily's eyes widened when she noticed that it was Umar, and that was seconds before he collided with her. She grunted as she landed in the snow, Umar on top of her.

"Umar!" Cecily heard Ethan's screech. "Get off of Cecily, she's mine!" Cecily watched as Ethan yanked poor Umar off of her. "Cecily," Ethan dropped to his knees, "are you alright? My dear flower of my heart, talk to me!"

"I'm fine Ethan!" Cecily snapped, sitting up. She looked at Umar, who looked terribly upset that he ran into her. "It's okay Umar, I'm fine," Cecily said, smiling at him.

"Remember Umar," Ethan hissed, "she's mine." Ethan grabbed her hand to emphasize his point.

"Stop being a jerk, Ethan!" Cecily hissed, pulling her hand free. "Besides, I need you to do me a favor."

"A favor? Anything my daffodil requires," Ethan said, leaning in close, "what is it my sweet honeysuckle?"

Cecily pushed him back a little. "I need you to deliver something to Haytham from Ziio."

"Haytham? Aww, man. Must I go back to Starrick's place? He's smelly," Ethan grumbled.

"Well," Cecily said, pulling out the piece of paper, "I thought I was the flower of your heart? The rose of your thoughts, and I was hoping… I mean, Ziio's been so sad lately, that I thought… if would be nice if you could… do that for her," Cecily pushed out her lower lip, "for me, Ethan?"

Ethan looked at her puppy expression. "Argh, fine," Ethan huffed, as Cecily gave a triumphant _yes!_ and handed him the piece of paper. "But only because it's you, Cecily." Ethan added and helped her to her feet as the bell rang. Ethan looked at the piece of paper in his hands before sighing and getting in line with the others.

* * *

Old Mr. Fayling was asleep on the couch, Birch had yet to return and Haytham was sitting on the couch reading a book. The doorbell rang. Haytham glanced at Mr. Fayling, who snorted in his sleep, before he got up and answered the door. "Ethan?" Haytham asked, surprised to see the boy at his doorstep. "Starrick's not here."

"I'm not here to see Smellrick," Ethan said flippantly. "I'm here to see you."

"Me?" Haytham's eyes widened, "You can't be here. If Lucy finds out you've told everyone where I am then… she'll have to put me into another foster home."

"Is that why you haven't been at school?" Ethan asked. Haytham looked away.

"I'm not supposed to talk about it," Haytham mumbled. "Look, why are you here?"

"I told you, to see you," Ethan repeated, "actually, to get specific Cecily told me to give you this," Ethan dug into his pocket and pulled out a crumbled piece of paper. "Here."

"What is it?" Haytham asked as he accepted the piece of paper.

"Ziio's moving. That's how to get ahold of her," Ethan said, then glanced over his shoulder when he heard the car honk. "Well, I gotta go. Mom's waiting." Ethan waved and ran down to the curb where his mother was waiting. Haytham stared at him, before closing the door.

"Mr. Fayling," Haytham called, waiting for the old man to jerk awake.

"Is it tea time?" the old man asked.

"I'm going to my room," Haytham said, and climbed the stairs as Mr. Fayling gave an affirmative sound. Haytham entered his room, closed the door and slid down, eyes fixed on the piece of paper.

Ziio was moving.

While he was stuck here because Lucy thinks his father is a bad parent.

Haytham felt tears prick his eyes, fisting his hand around the bit of paper. He sniffed, bringing his knees to his chest and hugging them as he rested his cheek on the tops of his knees. "I'm sorry Ziio," Haytham whispered, "that I didn't get to say goodbye."

* * *

 **Next update: More Haytham and Starrick.**

 **This is a Ziio centric-ish chapter, and I felt that it needed to be done in order for proper setting up the next chapter.**

 **The toys in Haytham's desk is supposed to represent their famous kiss scene in AC3. Former students etched a bunch of random designs on the inside of Haytham's desk too.**

 **Save an author; leave a review.**

 **Nemo**


	24. A Fragile Broken Thing

**Assassin's Creed (c) Ubisoft**

* * *

Birch shivered as he unlocked the door to his house. "Mr. Fayling?" he called, as he entered. "Haytham?" there was no answer. He walked into the living room to see Fayling on the couch, asleep. "Mr. Fayling," Birch muttered, nudging the man's foot. The man jerked awake, white hair fluffed around his head.

"Oh, Reginald," he said, "your back."

"Yes," Reginald gave a brittle smile, "where's Haytham?" Mr. Fayling glanced about the room before shrugging.

"Try his room," Mr. Fayling said. Birch nodded. "Well, I'm going to head off." The old man stood, stretched, and gathered up his things.

"Haytham wasn't too much trouble was he?" Birch asked.

"Oh, no." Mr. Fayling said, "Haytham is a rather quiet child. Well, after Christmas then?" Mr. Fayling picked up his briefcase and left the house. Birch glanced up the stairs.

"Haytham? Haytham are you up there?" Birch called, but silence met him. Frowning, he climbed the stairs and knocked on the door to Haytham's room. "Haytham? Haytham are you in there?"

"Go away," Haytham called. Birch frowned, tried the handle only to find it wasn't locked and opened the door a crack. He noted that Haytham was sitting in front of it. "I said go away."

"I just want to make sure you're alright."

"I'm fine, now leave me alone," Haytham spat and pushed the door close with a resounding snap. Birch frowned and opened the door again. "I said I was fine, didn't you—"

"I heard," Birch said, forcing the door open and Haytham to move. The boy retreated to the center of his room, shoving a piece of paper into his pocket. "I don't appreciate being treated like that Haytham. I know I'm not your father, but I do expect you to show me a certain amount of respect while you are living under my roof," Birch said.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Birch," Haytham muttered.

"Reginald, please," Birch said with a little smile. "Now, do you want to tell me what's bothering you?"

"Where's Starrick?"

"At a friend's house until Sunday," Birch said, glancing around Haytham's bare room. He noticed the chess board on the top shelf. "Do you play chess?"

"I know how to play," Haytham said, slowly. "My father taught me, but he's not very good. I mostly play with my Uncle Ben and Uncle Thatch."

"Your Uncle Ben and Uncle Thatch?" Birch arched a brow. "I wasn't aware your father had brothers."

"They're not really my uncles," Haytham explained, watching as Birch went over to the shelf and pulled down the chest set. "They're friends of my father's. I just call them Uncle Ben and Uncle Thatch. We play chess when they babysits me."

"I see, so what was your home life like?" Birch asked, setting down on the floor and patting it for Haytham to join him. Haytham plopped onto the floor, staring at his feet. He noted that one sock had a hole in it. He'd need to ask Birch for needle and thread to fix it. "Haytham?"

"It was okay," Haytham finally said. "Father worked a lot, but he found time for me. His friends… my aunts and uncles, would watch me and fill in when he couldn't be around."

"Where's your mother?" Birch asked, setting up the pieces. "I can't imagine—"

"No, you can't," Haytham snapped, looking up at Birch, with slate colored eyes filled with pain. "My mother died when I was a year old."

"I'm… I'm sorry, Haytham," Birch muttered. "I can only imagine how difficult her death must've been on your father."

"He started talking about her when I was seven. He showed me a video of her holding me and singing a lullaby. It was the first time I remember hearing her voice."

"White or black?" Birch asked, gesturing to the board.

"Black."

"That means I'm white then," Birch said, turning the board around, "and I have the advantage."

"Don't be so sure of yourself," Haytham muttered. Birch chuckled moving his pawn and watched as Haytham moved his pawn. They played in silence for several minutes, Birch watching as Haytham analyzed the board, taking his time before he moved. Birch took the first piece of the game.

"I told you I have the advantage," Birch said. Haytham felt a smirk curve his lip.

"How do you know I didn't force you to take that pawn?" Haytham asked, flicking his slate eyes up at his foster parent. Birch blinked, leaning back slightly. Then a smile spread across his face.

"Touché," he agreed. They continued to play in silence, more pieces, both white and black, were removed from the board. "Do you like school?" Birch asked as Haytham castled his king. The boy shrugged.

"It's alright," he said, "I find some of the material boring."

"Boring?" Birch asked, studying the board. He moved his knight, taking Haytham's bishop.

"Yeah, like history and math. I'm really good at those subjects. So I find them boring," Haytham said, he studied the board before moving his queen.

"What about friends? Do you have any friends at school?"

"I do," Haytham said.

"Do you want to tell me about them?"

"No."

"What about… siblings?"

"I have a half-sister," Haytham said, "her name is Jenny. She's twenty-two."

"Oh," Birch replied. "Twenty-two… wow."

"My mother was my father's second wife," Haytham explained. "Jenny is going to school in London to be a fashion designer."

"Ah, interesting. Are there any girls you like at school?" Birch asked. Haytham froze, hand hovering over the piece he was about to move. He looked away. "Haytham?"

"What does it matter," he said morosely. "She's gone now."

"Gone?" Birch asked, confused. "Is she dead?"

"No, she just moved away," Haytham explained, moving his piece. "I guess it's for the best really. We're just kids after all."

"Well," Birch said. "That's… that's rather mature of you Haytham."

"I guess…" Haytham paused, studying the board. He moved his knight. "Check."

"You're sharp," Birch said, an impressed smile on his face. "But I was regional champion in college, and you," Birch moved his queen, taking Haytham's pawn that was directly in front of his king. "My young ward, just have been checkmated."

"What? No." Haytham protested, studying the board. He bit his lip, thinking. "Damn."

"Language," Birch chided. "A gentleman doesn't swear because he lost. A gentleman is a gracious loser."

"How did you do it?" Haytham asked.

"Beat you? While you do have a natural knack for the game, you are still rather young, and like I said, I was regional champion."

"Fine, what's the secret?" Haytham asked.

Birch chuckled. "You sound like Crawford. Wanting to know the secret to success. Well, I'll tell you what I told him. There is no secret to success. The only way to success is hard work and dedication. And knowledge."

"Knowledge?"

"Yes, knowledge is power Haytham. With knowledge you have the power to control your own fate. With knowledge you can even control the fates of others," Birch said, his lips quirking up into a little smile. "If you have the right knowledge that is."

"Oh."

"Haytham, never stop studying. Never stop perusing knowledge. The more you know the more you have control over."

"I… I guess," Haytham muttered.

"You don't want to be stuck in the same rut your father is in, do you?" Birch asked.

"No," Haytham said, thinking about the good will clothes he wore, the used car his father drove, how his father stressed over bills every month, how they'd go over to Aunt Mary and Aunt Anne's for dinner when money was tight and his father stealing gas from the neighbour's car. Everything he hated about his home life came flooding back to him. "I don't want to live like that."

"Then you must educate yourself," Birch said, "for if you don't others will try to control you, and you want to be the one controlling them."

"Why are you telling me this?" Haytham asked.

"Because I see a lot of potential in you Haytham," Birch said, before getting up. "I'll be starting dinner soon, anything specific."

"No," Haytham mumbled, "I'm not really hungry. So whatever you make is fine."

"Very well then," Birch said and headed for the door. He opened it.

"Uh, Reginald," Haytham called out, Birch turned to look at his young ward. "Do you know… what does it feel like to have a broken heart?"

"A broken heart?"

"Yeah," Haytham said, "what does it feel like?"

Birch walked up to the boy and placed a hand on his head. "You know; I don't honestly know. I've never had my heartbroken before."

"But, what about the people at the university that said you were an idiot for wanting to study unicorns?"

Birch chuckled. "My heart wasn't broken, just upset at the narrowmindedness of academia."

"If you never had a broken heart, then how do you know if you have one?"

"Well," Birch said, "I imagine a broken heart would be very painful. It's a special kind of pain, a broken heart. You know the pain the moment you feel it."

"So… people know when they have broken hearts?" Haytham asked.

"Indeed."

"I guess I have one then…" Haytham muttered. Birch frowned, mussing the boy's hair. "How does one fix a broken heart?"

"Love," Birch said, "love is the only cure for a broken heart." Haytham nodded sadly at Birch's words. Birch stood, invited Haytham to aide him in preparing dinner once more before he left the room and the boy to his sorrows.

* * *

 **And the END OF CHAPTER bat hits me over the head. :P**

 **Next chapter will include the long await Starrick vs. Haytham fight, a bittersweet Christmas and other things. I had planned to include the bittersweet Christmas and the fight in this chapter but the fight has been giving me troubles but I think I finally figured it out!**

 **I'll be alternating between this fic and my new Arno/Élise fic called** _ **Between Love and Honor**_ **, which is set in WWII France. (I know, shameless self-advertising!) So check that one out too! People have been telling me it's really good. :)**

 **Save an author; leave a review.**

 **-Nemo**


	25. Innocence

**Assassin's Creed (c) Ubisoft**

* * *

 _Inside of me, doors will stay open_ _,_ _a thousand lives to live_ _waiting like universes do without an end_ _!_ _Love break into my innocence!_ _Innocence, innocence, innocence_ _,_ _innocence, innocence! — Tarja_

* * *

Edward opened his eyes when he heard the doorbell ring. "What the hell?" he grumbled staring at the clock which read six-thirty. He wondered who could come to him at six-thirty in the morning. He pulled the pillow over his head, hoping whomever was at the door would just leave him alone. The doorbell rang again. "Fuck."

Edward got out of bed and pulled on his robe he hoped it wasn't Mary. Nobody was hiring at the moment, since they all had their holiday staff positions already filled. He was thankful that Ádewalé still gave him a job at his auto-shop. Edward yawned as he yanked the door open, "What do…" he trailed off when he saw Jenny standing there, all bundled up for the New England winter. "Jenny?"

"Happy Christmas, Dad!" Jenny said, hugging her father. "Surprise, huh?"

Edward hugged his daughter. "Well, yeah. I thought you were stopping off at New York to see ya mom?"

"Well, I was," Jenny said, slipping inside. Edward closed the door. "But after what you told me about Haytham and everything that has happened, I felt it would be best if I came here first and visit Mum for the New Year."

Edward looked at his feet, a smile on his face. "Thanks Jenny, I appreciate it."

"So, how's it been going?"

"Terrible, I can't seem to get a second job, everyone already has their holiday staff and they won't consider hiring anyone until after the holidays."

"Well, that sucks," Jenny said, "are they going to let you see Haytham for Christmas?" Jenny asked.

Edward ran his hand through his hair before going and fixing a pot of coffee. "Do you want tea?" he asked his daughter.

"Nah, coffee," Jenny said.

"And no," Edward answered, "they haven't. I… I'm reluctant to ask them. They may say no. You know I have to schedule to take a psych test! A psych test, like I'm some common criminal! I didn't do anything wrong, Jenny! The charges were dropped, but they _still_ take Haytham away from me!"

Jenny pulled out a chair and sat down, drumming her fingers on the table top. "I know it's not fair Dad, but… they are just doing their jobs."

"I know," Edward said, opening the fridge and pulling out a box of day old donuts. "Donuts?"

"Sure," Jenny said with a shrug. Her father put them on a plate and set them in the middle of the table. "You'll pass this test, I mean, you aren't a psychopath or anything."

"It's the principle of the matter," Edward growled, "but you're right. They can't find anything wrong with me."

"Just jump through the hoops," Jenny said. "And before you know it, you'll have Haytham back."

"Thanks Jenny," Edward said. The phone rang, and he got to his feet, and grabbed the device. "Hello?" Edward answered. "Mrs. Miles… uh-huh… uh-huh…r-really?" Edward asked. "I don't care if it's supervised or whatever, I get to see him? C-Can his sister come to? Yes, my daughter, Jenny… she's visiting for the holidays… she goes to school in London… really? Oh thank you, Lucy, thank you! Afternoon is fine, whenever actually. I'm just… happy I get to see my boy on Christmas. Yes, thank you again," Edward said and hung up the phone.

"What was that about?" Jenny asked, as she poked the donuts until she found the lemon jelly filled one.

"Lucy got the green light to let me go see Haytham on Christmas," Edward said, rubbing at his eyes, "you can come too. It's a supervised visit, so she'll be there, but… I get to see Haytham."

Jenny's eyes widened and she set her donut down. "That's brilliant Dad!" Jenny said, getting up and hugging her father tightly. Edward hugged his daughter, though all he could think about was that he'll be able to see his son on Christmas.

* * *

Haytham shoved the items around his desk. "Where is it? Where is it?" he grumbled. He had yet to find his journal in his frantic search. His father and Jenny were coming to visit him for Christmas. He didn't have anything to give him, but he had told Birch what his sister and father liked and the man had agreed to pick up something that Haytham can give his family for Christmas. "Darn it, where is it!" Haytham shouted, slamming his hands on his desk before pushing away.

He walked over to his dresser, yanked the drawer open and began to look through his clothes. "Where is my journal!" he growled. The room remain silent to his frustrated inquiry. He looked through the other drawers before slamming the last of them closed and going to his bed. He pulled back his pillow, the corners of his mattress, even peaked under his bed. Nothing. Nothing! "Oh, man! Where is it!" he rubbed his forehead, getting anxious about his missing journal.

The pouch Ziio made hung on the back of his chair, his pen and her new address still within, but his journal had vanished. Haytham felt a knot of anxious frustration tangle in his chest, and tears pricked at the corners of his eyes.

The door creaked open. Haytham turned, balling his hands into fists. "Starrick," Haytham growled, as he looked at the other boy over his shoulder.

"Kenway," Starrick drawled and held up a leather bound book, _Haytham_ emblazon in gold lettering. "Looking for this?"

Haytham lunged for his journal but Starrick snatched it back. "Give it here, Starrick," Haytham said, holding out his hand.

"Uuuh…" Starrick made a show of thinking about it, "no." He said, smirking like the devil himself. "I don't think I will."

"Starrick, it's mine," Haytham said tightly. "So, please give it back."

"I told you no, Haytham," Starrick said and opened the journal. "Who's Ziio?" Starrick asked. Haytham stayed silent. "Is she your girlfriend? Do you _looove_ her?"

"Shut up, Starrick and give me back my journal."

"And I told you no, now answer my question."

"No," Haytham hissed.

Starrick frowned. "Well, it doesn't matter who she is," he said after a moment, "I bet she doesn't even like you anymore. I bet that's why she moved," Starrick added, "because of you. She hates your guts."

Haytham flinched and took a step forward. "That's not true! Ziio and I are good friends! We like each other a lot! She had to move because of her family, I'm sure!"

"Right," Starrick sneered, "keep telling yourself that Nathan."

"It's _Haytham_!" Haytham shouted. "Besides, at least Ziio isn't related me. Unlike Pearl." Starrick went still, eyes narrowing to slits. "That's right," Haytham continued, "I know you have a crush on your cousin, Pearl Attaway. I saw her picture in your room one day when Reginald made me drop off your clean laundry. And you know what I think?"

"Enlighten me," Starrick hissed.

"I think it's gross. She's your cousin. Family. That's just wrong."

"She's my second cousin!" Starrick pointed out. "Hardly going to foul the gene pool. But at least I still have some members of my family that care about me! Pearl cares about me! Unlike your father!"

"What about my father?" Haytham asked, shoulders dropping a bit.

"I know the real reason you're here, Kenway," Starrick said, "your father abandoned you. He didn't want you anymore because he never loved you."

Haytham felt the blood drain from his face. "No… no that's not true," Haytham whispered, "that's not true."

"My father is in prison for nefarious business dealings and my mother is dead, my brothers are older than me and the rest of my family didn't want to explain why they suddenly took me in. Being a member of high society, you have to consider such things," Starrick said. "So I got placed here, with Reginald. At least my family comes and visits me, at least my family calls and I'm allowed to take vacations with them."

"My father loves me," Haytham insisted, even though doubt gnawed at his heart. "He's coming to visit me for Christmas."

"While I get to go to my brother's for Christmas," Starrick said. "I bet he didn't even want to come and see your ugly mug."

"Shut up!" Haytham shouted. "That's not true! I know it! He didn't want me to be taken away! He would've fought the police and Ms. Lucy if he could!"

"Then why didn't he?" Starrick countered. "If he loved you so much, why didn't he fight the police?"

"I… I…" Haytham stammered. "I don't know," he finally whispered.

"I know," Starrick said, his voice full of malicious glee. "It's because he never loved. He never wanted you and was all too happy to let the cops take you away. And your mother," Starrick said.

"No," Haytham said, marching towards Starrick. "No, you leave my mother out of this!"

"She died because she hated you," Starrick said, "I bet she shot herself in the head to get away from you! She never wanted you at all! You were the biggest mistake of her life!"

Haytham punched Starrick in the nose. "I told you to leave my mother out of this!" Haytham shouted. The other boy dropped Haytham's journal and staggered back. Haytham kicked his journal into his room and advanced on Starrick. "She loved me! This I know for a fact! I heard her say it!" Haytham said.

"Heh, probably for your benefit," Starrick goaded. Haytham gnashed his teeth before he punched Starrick in the face, but the other boy dodged, ducking beneath Haytham's punch and slammed his fist into Haytham's stomach.

Haytham gasped as the wind was knocked out of him and grunted when Starrick punched him in the face. Haytham stumbled back into the wall, rattling the landscape pictures Birch had hung upon. Starrick went for him again, but Haytham grabbed Starrick by his shirt and tried to kick him. Starrick countered by grabbing Haytham's shirt and the two twisted and turned, grabbling with each other.

They inched closer and closer to the stairs, Haytham's foot caught Starrick's and the two tumbled down the stairs, grunting as they fell. Haytham landed on his back, the wind bursting free from his lungs in a painful gasp. Starrick punched him the in face, holding him down with one hand.

Haytham tasted blood in his mouth, and a mixture of blood and snot dribbled down his nose. He punched Starrick in the armpit, twisted his way free, and pounced on the other boy. He punched Starrick in the face. "That was for my father," he hissed, "that's for my mother." Another punch. "That's for Ziio." Starrick spat blood. "And that's for me!" Haytham swung but two strong arms had pulled him off of the boy. "Hey, lemme go! Lemme go!"

"What in the world is going on!" Birch asked, setting Haytham down. Starrick sat up, sniffing and wiping the blood from his face. "Both of you explain yourselves, _now!_ "

"Starrick stole my journal and said my parents hated me," Haytham said. Birch stared at Starrick. "So, I punched him."

"You call those punches?" Starrick goaded. Haytham lunged but Birch held him back.

"Crawford, apologize."

"Why should I? He started it," Starrick protested.

"I don't care, I'm telling you to apologize, so apologize!" Birch shouted. Starrick remained stubbornly mute. "Fine, both of you will go to your rooms and stay there until I say you can come out, do I make myself clear?" Birch asked, as he went into the kitchen and grabbed two rags. He handed one to Haytham and the other to Starrick. "So you can clean your faces. Now, go!"

The boys glared at each other before Starrick headed up to his room. Haytham made to go but Birch stopped him. "Haytham, your father doesn't hate you," Birch said.

"But… what if he does?" Haytham whispered. "I said some mean things to him a few days before Ms. Lucy came and took me away and I—"

"Children say mean things all the time to their parents," Birch said, cutting Haytham off. "Your father loves you. If he didn't he would never have bothered to come visit you on Christmas."

"Yes, but—"

"He loves you, Haytham," Birch said, his voice stern. Haytham sighed before heading up to his room.

* * *

Christmas morning was dull, though Haytham had to admit it was nice that Starrick was gone. Haytham had assumed his position on the couch, curling up with _The Mouse and His Child_. He liked the story so far, even though it made him miss his own father. Haytham looked up when Birch nudged him with a wrapped box. "Merry Christmas, Haytham," Birch said.

"Oh," Haytham marked his page, "thank you," he said. He accepted the gift and methodically tore the paper. "A calligraphy set?" Haytham mumbled, looking up at Birch.

"Yes, so you can make pretty entries in your journal," Birch said. "Your father should be here soon. Are you excited to see him?  
"Yeah… I guess," Haytham mumbled. "Do you think… do you think he still loves me?" Haytham asked.

"I know he still loves you," Birch said. "Your sister is coming too."

"Yeah, it's just that it's supervised and everything," Haytham said. "Do they really think that my father is going to do something bad?"

"It's the law Haytham. There is no way around it," Birch said. "Don't worry, after the New Year the courts will start taking cases again and I'm sure your father will regain custody of you in no time."

"Can… Can we still play chess?" Haytham asked, then blushed. "I… I mean, if you have time and it's allowed and…" he stopped. "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize," Birch chuckled, "of course we can still play chess. "You are a worthy opponent and I enjoy playing with you."

"Really? Thanks," Haytham said. "I like playing with you too." Haytham said, and then his head snapped into the direction of the door. Birch followed the boy's gaze, got up and answered it. Haytham leaned over the back of the couch, listening to the voices. He recognized Ms. Lucy's.

"Haytham? You in here?" a familiar voice called. Haytham sat up like an eager puppy.

"Jenny!" he cried, vaulting over the couch and rushing into the arms of his half-sister. "Jenny! It's so good to see you!" Haytham shouted, as he squeezed her tightly. "How's London? Where's father?"

"Dad's parking the car, couldn't find a bloody parking space closer. So he sent me on ahead," Jenny said, ruffling her little brother's hair. "I brought you some things," she said and pulled into a view a carrying-on suitcase. "I made you some nice clothes, very fashionable and I also found this in a bookshop up in Darlington," Jenny said and handed Haytham a wrapped package. "Happy Christmas little brother."

"Thanks Jenny," Haytham said and picked at the tapped down corner until it popped open and carefully took the wrapping paper off. His eyes grew wide. " _English Swords from the 5_ _th_ _Century to the 21_ _st_ _Century_ ," Haytham read the title, "wow. This is cool!"

"I knew you'd like it, since you like fencing," Jenny said. "By the way, Haytham… what happened to your face?"

"Nothing," Haytham mumbled, suddenly conscious of the bruises on his face.

"Where is he?" a familiar voice asked. "Where's my boy?"

Haytham peered passed his sister and saw his father. "Mr. Kenway, I'm Reginald Birch, your—"

"Yeah, hi," Edward said, patting Birch on the shoulder. His eyes were focused on his son. "Haytham."

"Father!" Haytham shouted, handing the book to Jenny and running into Edward's arms. Edward laughed, and swung his son around. "I missed you, Father! I missed you so much!"

"I'm here now, Haytham, I'm here now," Edward said. "I'm here now."

* * *

 **I wanted to do the complete visit but I think it deserves its own special chapter because this is supposed to be a really big deal for both Edward and Haytham and I want to do my best on it. :3**

 **But OMG! I finally got this stupid fucking fight done! Now Starrick can go back to being a background character. Ugh! I hope you enjoy this chapter. :3 Sorry it took me so long to get up.**

 **Save an author; leave a review!**

 **Nemo**


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